Spartan 000
by Mr. 125
Summary: Jeff Benson, a genius and candidate for the Spartan Program, was abducted and trained until he escaped from Reach before augmentations, being the only one to do so. While on the run, Jeff struggles to find reason and truth behind the censored experiment.
1. Chapter I

**August 17, 2517**

**Eridanus Star System, Eridanus 2, Elysium City**

Shadows cast on the playground of Elysium Primary School stretched on forever, blending together, forming grotesque shapes underneath screaming, running children. Heat waves rose from the pavement, baking underneath the high afternoon Eridanus sun.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Jacob Keyes stood rigid with his hands thrust deep inside his pockets, the one casual pose he could pull off, only because it resembled standing at attention. But try as he could, he couldn't get over the pockets. Dr. Halsey had assured him they were fine. She had told him thirty minutes earlier he was only drawing more attention to himself looking the way he did.

Then she had laughed loudly when she witnessed his relaxed pose. A wide grin plastered on her face, the dark-haired doctor told him the rigid stance was fine. Then he'd be okay with it too. Military to the core.

On the way out, her electronic pad beeped, but Dr. Halsey ignored it. It beeped once again, and continued the pattern as a sign of urgency. Keyes didn't want to bother the woman, but she did look a little distracted by something else. Timidly, he asked, "Are you going to answer that?" He just knew he'd regret asking.

With a huff of irritation, she retrieved the pad and tapped a button on the side once. Her eyes quickly flitted from side to side as she peered into the tiny screen and scanned through the information.

"Wait a minute, Lieutenant," Dr. Halsey said with a wave of her hand. "I've just been informed that we have another candidate for the program in this place. We'll have to go back in and see if my sources were right."

"Go back?" Keyes sighed. He desperately wanted to get out of his civilian clothing, and the doctor could tell. She allowed herself a smile as he tried to tighten the loose collar of his shirt.

"It won't take a minute," she told him, while turning back and motioning for him to follow.

"I seriously doubt that," Keyes muttered under his breath.

The two walked closer to the facility. There still weren't any adults around to supervise the children. They stopped when they reached the courtyard.

She stared again into the data pad and held up a hand. "We're near his location, I think," Dr. Halsey said while rechecking the small device.

"Who exactly are we looking for, Doctor?" Keyes asked.

"I don't know his name, but he is a six year old male" she replied.

"Just like subject 117?"

"Yes, but this one is different. Physically, he's put together well," Halsey said, searching for layman's terms, then paused. "He's strikingly more intelligent than your average six year old, and that'll carry on throughout his adult life. And according to reports, his maturity level has followed suit."

"I see," Keyes said slowly, taking in all of this.

Halsey nodded and accessed a file on her pad. Without taking her eyes off, she said, "Basically, he's got talents we can't afford to ignore."

Keyes looked around until he saw a boy standing near a decorative pillar by himself. "Is that him?"

Dr. Halsey frowned. She stared at him then turned to Keyes. "No. Either ONI sent me an old picture of the subject, or you've guessed wrong," Dr. Halsey said as she shook her head. She was getting frustrated, but they couldn't just leave a subject for the Spartan program as a civilian. Who knew what this one boy could do while serving for the UNSC.

Keyes nodded and stared off into the shadows. Even at noon, the courtyard was surprisingly gloomy and dark. Suddenly, he saw something moving within the shadows. He blinked and looked again, but everything was still. Keyes squinted and saw the figure again. He could just make out the outline of a child. The figure was moving with slow deliberate steps. Keyes tapped the doctor on the shoulder and pointed to the shadows. He and Dr. Halsey watched as the figure darted from pillar to pillar with quick and silent steps. When the figure finally poked his head out from behind a pillar, Halsey quickly took a picture and saved the file. She compared ONI's picture with the one she had just taken.

"Keyes, we have a match," Dr. Halsey whispered.

The doctor walked across the courtyard, never taking an eye off her subject that waited in the shadows. The figure silently leapt out of the shadows and was about to land on the first boy.

The doctor cleared her throat to attract the boy's attention.

The one from the shadows turned in mid jump and fell short of his target. The first boy whirled around and ran out of the courtyard screaming and giggling, "You can't catch me!"

Halsey walked over to the boy who was cursing and helping himself up. He pushed locks of light-brown hair out of his green eyes and stood up.

"Can I have a word?" she asked.

The boy glanced through the doors of the courtyard and frowned, then nodded slightly. "If it's just the one."

The remark didn't surprise Halsey. She intended to follow up on it. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Jeff," he replied with a cold stare. Unlike her previous encounter with subject 117, this one seemed less welcoming and more hostile—like a spring ready to release. His unfriendly demeanor threw her a little, but she shrugged off the feeling.

The doctor bent down to meet the boy at eye-level. She didn't have much experience with children, but this was what she'd been told to do. She put on a friendly smile, "It's nice to meet you, Jeff."

Again, he nodded but crossed his arms and leaned back against a pillar. The kid was being uncooperative—not what Dr. Halsey had prepared for. His parents had probably told him to be wary of strangers, but he seemed unperturbed by her presence. She tried again, "What were you doing?"

With a casual shrug, he answered curtly, "Tag."

"Tag?" Dr. Halsey asked, cocking her head slightly. Finally, this was going somewhere. She'd managed to get the boy to say something. She wanted to carry on. "Is that some kind of game?"

Jeff smiled, but it wasn't a smile of friendship. It was mocking, and it sent shivers down Halsey's spine. He said, "You tell me. Adults are the ones who teach us these things. We don't educate ourselves, you know."

"Um, so do you like this school?"

"Can't complain," Jeff said with a shrug. "I mean, seriously, there's only the one school here. That's it."

Halsey observed the boy talk. It was as if he was reciting lines from a vidstream he had watched, but it wasn't your average parroting. He understood everything that came out of his mouth.

"Now about you," he said, pointing a finger at her.

"What do you want to know?"

"You seem to be really interested in the school. Are you planning on joining up?"

Halsey almost laughed, but she stopped herself. She could imagine the question coming from any other naïve child, but from Jeff, it was a statement delivered with a hint of malice.

"Actually, I am planning on enrolling my daughter here," Halsey lied, "and this is my husband." She hastily motioned for Keyes to come closer.

Jeff eyed the man, and his face lit up. "Hey, you UNSC?" he asked as Keyes walked up beside Halsey. The junior grade lieutenant looked at Halsey. She just shrugged and turned away with a bewildered look on her face.

He quickly said, "What? No I'm not." The navy man tried not to blow his cover, but he wasn't doing very well. "I don't like to tell others. But how'd you guess?" Keyes asked, his expression mirroring Halsey's.

Jeff placed his left hand over his chin and drew a straight line up and down with his right index finger animatedly. "Deduction and reasoning, whatever that means. I'm six. Come on."

Halsey studied the boy more intently. Apparently, he was well aware he had an advantage over others.

"You two new in town?"

"We just moved in," Halsey replied sweetly.

"Great. They're gonna have to throw a welcoming party and everything. That'll be fun. Now, are you going to introduce yourselves, or should I do the honours? 'Hi, mommy, I met some nice strangers at school today!'"

Just then, a bell sounded, and children from all sides streamed in, ready for their afternoon classes. With a small laugh, Jeff stepped backwards and raised his hand to wave farewell, then melded into the crowd of kids.

"What the hell?" Keyes said to Halsey, running his hand over his head.

"He has to be bluffing. He's not scared of us," Halsey said, her eyes wide. She was impressed with what she had seen. Jeff demonstrated stealth… he was more intelligent than anyone his age, although a bit rude, but sure enough, Jeff was another candidate for the program.

But the catch was how she was going to get him. And she _was_ going to get him.

* * *

Author's note (April 17, 2007): This is a rewrite of the original first chapter, or basically the original chapter beefed up. Whatever you prefer. I'll be going over a few more chapters later.

Revised author's note (July 30/10): In celebration of the completion of this story and the three years rewriting, I've gone back to fix up the first chapter AGAIN to bring it up to par with the quality of the later chapters. Originally I tried to make it more like Nylund's style, but now… it's not like that. Welcome to Spartan 000! You're in for some wild times. Sit back and enjoy the re-mastered and revised edition of the full 15 chapters plus the all new, never seen before conclusion!

-125


	2. Chapter II

**12:45 PM, September 19, 2517, Elysium City**

"That lady over there is totally checking you out!"

"Steve," Jeff replied with a nod. "Always great to see you."

"No, but for real, when you walked over here, I could see her tracking you."

"Who, the gardener?" He pulled himself up beside his friend who was perched on the metal railing. Steve was just about as smart as Jeff, so he could carry on an actual conversation.

"Whoa. Good eyes. Two o'clock, dark shades, good looking and nice hair. I'm telling you, out of the hundreds of kids on the playground today, she's only looking at you."

"Now I _know_ you're lying."

"What?"

"Shades."

"Just because she doesn't look from out of the corner of her eyes, like every good spy should, doesn't mean she's not suspicious."

"Well, okay then. If she is watching me, my good looks probably attracted her attention, yeah?"

Steve socked him in the arm and shook his head. "You're six, first of all. You can't be using that line. Anyway, every time I glance over there, she doesn't do any work. Water a couple of plants, fiddle with a spade… I don't think she's a real gardener."

"Maybe she's incompetent."

"Come on, now."

"Then let's play your game. Why would someone need to spy on me? I'm a damn six-year old, for crying out. What am I, special?"

"You're a funny guy. You remember last month, in the courtyard?"

"What, you mean with those… _two_?" Jeff asked.

"Yes. Exactly with those two," Steve muttered.

"You were spying on us? Look out, it could be you they're after."

After a look of terror cross Steve's face, Jeff sighed. "Lighten up. Those guys are clueless. We don't have to worry about any conspiracy theories, okay?"

"I don't know. They just don't seem to be the parental type."

"Well, many people don't seem to be the parental type. Just ease up. You can't always think the worst about people."

"But that guy…he was with the navy," Steve continued. "Not many people can get off duty just to go to some school for a few minutes."

Jeff raised an eyebrow and smiled. "That's true. But what's the worst that can happen?"

As the two dropped the subject and walked away to their next class, the gardener lowered her sunglasses and watched the two disappear into the main building. She removed a glove, reached into her back pocket and removed a chatter. She punched in a code and spoke into the receiver.

"Everything is set, Doctor. Subject Benson is in place."

"So, I should probably take the time and tell you now that you can hand your assignments in tomorrow," Jeff's teacher began, and paused over the cheer of his class. "However, you're going to need to go downstairs to for your shots." The class groaned from hearing this.

Jeff narrowed his eyes and turned to Steve. "What did he say?"

"Some kind of mineral injection—it was planned since last week. Why, are you scared?"

Jeff stood up and stretched his arms, then made his way to the door, followed by Steve. "What? Never. Come on; let's just get this over with."

"You're totally scared. You know what the worst part is?"

"Shut up."

"Those needles are like, six inches long," Steve grinned and held up two hands. "Boy that's gotta hurt."

"I'll get you after school."

The two rounded the corner and fell into line with the rest of his class. Jeff waited until he was called forward into the room. The lady scrutinized his face for a moment, then told him to roll up his sleeve and sit in a chair. He watched as Steve received the injection, nodded to Jeff, then strolled outside. He waited for the nurse to come over and finish with him, so he could leave too. As she attended to the next student, ignoring Jeff, he leaned back and drummed his fingers against a nearby table with an irritated sigh. Suddenly, there was a felt a prick on his upper arm, and pain shot through his left extremity. He winced and began to roll down his sleeve.

"Okay, that's great. Quick and professional," he said, and when he turned to the person with the syringe, his eyes widened with surprise. It was… the _gardener_? He never got a good look at her outside, but her hair and shades were the same. Except, now she wore a white lab coat and her hair hung down at shoulder's length. Before Jeff could say anything, she wordlessly pushed him forward, out of the room with a gentle shove.

He stumbled forward and met with Steve, and they exited through the doors. They decided to take the scenic route back to class, through the garden just inside the school courtyard.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" Steve said, then laughed. "How could they do this to us? They _shot_ us! Hey, are you all right?"

His voice was kind of wavy to Jeff, and his vision began to blur. As he stretched out his hands to regain his balance, everything seemed to be slowing down. Jeff's knees buckled and gave away, and the cool, hard ground rose to meet his head.

Jeff's eyelids parted slowly, and he inhaled, taking in the sterile air and smells of chemicals. Tilting his head, he saw he was in a hospital bed, and a nurse above, looking him over. As he came to, she gave him a friendly smile.

"What happened?" he inquired and sat up.

"You hit your head. We think it's because of the injection, but you look fine to me," she said with slowly, like she was talking to a kid.

"Good to know. All right," he said, and held up his right wrist, "if you'll just unhook me now, I'll be on my way."

She shook her head, and her friendly attitude disappeared. "You have to stay here for the time being, kid. Until Dr. Halsey figures out what to do with you from here."

"…Who?"

**A/n **(April 19, 2007): More rewrites to come.


	3. Chapter III

**12:00 AM, September 19, 2517, Elysium City**

"How is he?"

"Sleeping. The sedatives must have worn off by now, but we won't need to worry about him right now—kids his age need their sleep. Just remember to give him another if he decides to wake up."

"You taking off?"

"Yeah, I've been here since two in the afternoon."

"The kid's in room 3, right? Okay, see you tomorrow."

"See you."

One voice grew fainter, as did the footsteps. A moment later, the second person walked off. Jeff's eyes snapped open, and his gaze drifted to the door slightly. It was unguarded, and the hall was clear. He quickly rolled off the bed and landed on all fours on the floor without a sound. He scrambled to the side of the room and pushed his back up against the wall so he couldn't be seen from the observation window over his head. He crept along the wall, keeping his head low until he came to the door. Hearing footsteps approaching, he lay on his side, his back still to the wall.

The lights were already dimmed, so it appeared as though Jeff was still lying in bed. The shadow passed overhead, and he slowly peeked from the crack in the door. The young nurse had her back turned and was already reaching down behind her desk to answer a call. As she talked, to presumably to her boyfriend, Jeff gathered from snippets of the conversation, he'd already shot across the hall to another empty room while she sat down comfortably on the swiveling chair and put her feet up on the desk. The door to his room had noisily clicked shut, and he had just enough time to hide himself as the nurse hung up and produced a syringe from a drawer.

She walked to his room, slid a key into the hole and entered. As she lingered for two seconds in the doorway, Jeff slunk forward into the hallway, silently behind her. With a forceful kick to the small of her back, she was pushed forward with a startled cry. Jeff slammed the door shut and twisted the key, locking her in from the outside. She came to the window, slapping the thick glass and yelling, her words unheard.

Jeff looked at her, shrugged his shoulders animatedly, and smiled. As he turned to leave, he thumbed the control panel, lowering the shutter which covered the window, concealing his frantic prisoner. Next, he found his clothing and pocketed the key. Now he would need to escape from this place. Anywhere outside might be nice.

He tried a door on the right of the bay and found himself in a nice, furnished waiting room. As he was about to step out, there was a shout from the other side of the room. Two orderlies began to surge forward, brandishing night-sticks. Jeff took a step back and shut the door. The knob began to rattle, as the two worked to unlock it, but stopped as Jeff jammed the key he'd acquired into the hole. He was surprised that worked, but he'd take the lucky break anyway. His only other choice was through the door on the left now. Jeff quickly checked it, then stepped into the corridor and broke into a dead sprint. He navigated around patients and staff members, before they could identify him.

As he came to an exit, his lips curled into a smile of relief, but was quickly replaced with a frown as a security guard walked through. He skidded to a halt, and hooked left into another corridor as the guard yelled for him to stop. Jeff tore through the hallway with speed on his side. With he was just out of the man's reach, Jeff hastily grabbed hold of various items off to the sides—wheelchairs, supply carts, instrument trays—and threw them behind him. The guard tried his best to avoid the obstacles, weaving around the skittering chairs and dodging the low-flying obstacles. Jeff grabbed hold of an unoccupied stretcher and hastily shoved it into the middle of the corridor, tripping up the man and blocking the passageway.

Jeff slowed to a stop and grinned as he watched the guard, who'd ran into the stretcher and fell face-first into the linoleum, struggle to get to his feet while checking his bruised face. Jeff dashed towards the exit and leapt through the closing glass doors. Finally, he was out in the free. He kept to the darkness and entered the dark woods behind the hospital. He decided he'd lay low and wait for morning before he figured out what to do.

He thought back to the afternoon. The injection must have been some type of sedative, so he could wind up at the hospital. Why? There were forces at work here that Jeff wasn't ready to fight with. His mind wandered back to the week before… that doctor and the navy-guy. Jeff was playing with loose ends here, but whatever he thought of led back to them. The gardener was probably their "guy" on the inside, and they must've found out about the shots and planned it from that very day. Bastards. _Well, Steve, you son of a bitch. Why didn't you try harder to convince me? _

His train of thought was interrupted as a light was shined directly in his eyes. He shielded his face, and slowly rose to his feet… like a deer caught in the headlights. The man behind the flashlight called out to him, "Jeff Benson?"

"John Benson, sorry," he called back, trying to hide his face from the penetrating light.

The man ignored his reply and said, "All right, I think you're going to need to be coming with me, okay? Nice and slow."

Jeff crossed his arms. "And _I_ think there's no way in _hell_ that's going to happen."

"You don't want me to force you, kid. I'm only going to tell you once."

"Too late, that's twice."

The man stepped closer and said in a low voice, "I'm getting sick of your attitude, boy. Come on. Now!" As the man tried to lunge forward and grab Jeff, the boy quickly sidestepped and behind him was a steep drop to who knew where. The man let out a scream until he hit the ground and rolled for a metre or two. Jeff could where he lay because he still held the flashlight.

"Idiot," he muttered, then turned to walk deeper in the woods. Suddenly, there was sharp pain in the side of his neck. His hands flew to his neck, which was beginning to get numb, and found a dart. He gritted his teeth and ripped it out, and a second later, he took another in his thigh. Jeff tried to stand up straight but his leg was failing him. He slumped against a tree and slid to the ground and the last thing he saw was a figure moving cautiously forward, dressed entirely in black. His vision began to fade and he lay limp on the damp ground.

**2300 Hours September 23, 2517 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

Dr. Halsey's heels clicked against the floor as she strode through the hallway into her office. She leaned forward for a retinal scan and spoke the password. The doors of Dr. Halsey's office hissed open, revealing a man sitting behind her desk, fiddling with her letter opener. His blonde hair was messier than usual, his face was littered with stubble, and he wore a suit with his shirt collar loose and his tie undone.

"Mr. Andrews," she greeted him slowly. Dr. Halsey crossed her arms and looked at him with an expectant look on her face. When he held his tongue, she sighed and asked, "How did it go?"

"Fine."

The doctor wasn't a very patient person, and Andrews' terse attitude both irritated and frightened her a little. She watched him twirl the sharp object around his fingers and said, "Okay, what happened?"

"I lost one of your _idiot_ hired hands." Still, he spoke quietly and made no eye contact with Dr. Halsey.

"Is he… dead?"

"No, just hurt. And out in the woods."

"You _left_ him there? You didn't go back to help him?"

Andrews' eyes snapped up to meet hers, his expression looked as though she asked the most ridiculous question ever conceived. He set the letter opener on her desk silently and stood up. Once again, he told her, "It was dark, and I lost him." With that, he began to walk to the door. Dr. Halsey stepped aside quickly, not wanting to be in his way.

"I'll take my payment directly into my account, the price we agreed on. And I'll be leaving in a couple of days." Andrews walked with slow steps, like he wasn't fully awake.

As he touched the doorknob, the doctor said, "You haven't been sleeping." Andrews stood with his hand on the knob, motionless. She took this answer as an affirmative. "Why?"

The hired gun spoke without turning to face her. "He was six… a kid. I didn't kill him, but if your plan goes like I believe it will, then I know I've _condemned_ him." Andrews now looked over his shoulder so he could stare deeply into the doctor's eyes. "What you're doing here, with all these kids, it's not right."

Before she had a chance to reply, he exited her office and had silently vanished down the hallway. The confrontation had left the doctor a little shaken, and her hand quavered a little when she reached out to grab a folder she'd forgotten on her desk. Dr. Halsey shook her head to clear her thoughts and straightened her dark hair. In a few minutes the children would be waking. She would need to be there for them… and to seal their fates.

**2045 Hours, September 24, 2517 (Military Calender) / Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

After their exercise on the "playground", Jeff strolled out of the mess hall. The turkey was dry and the dessert tasted awful, but he welcomed any sort of warm food after the hell that was training. Waking up at five in the morning and having a tough, unwanted workout for the better part of the day, he'd _kill_ for actual foodstuff, no matter how bad it was. But it didn't matter too much, because he could rub in the fact that he was eating to team three. He remembered John's face when he heard that he had lost. Sucks to be him, Jeff thought with a grim smile.

On his way back to the barracks, he saw a dark figure move out of the shadowy areas. Jeff squinted to get a better look. He could recognize the same gait from the man as the one who had shot him in the neck with the darts and sent him to this damn place. He rubbed the tender spot on his neck and scowled. It was pitch dark in the woods, and yet, his shot was dead on. For some odd reason, this guy intrigued Jeff greatly. He fell out of line from the other kids and began to follow the man.

Jeff followed closely behind, making sure not to step on anything that might give him away. The man came into a spot just away from the training grounds. He glanced behind him but Jeff was nowhere to be seen. Jeff saw the man march across a field and into a cabin. This was his chance; he ran to the cabin and slipped in through the door. Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind and thrown forward onto the ground. Jeff scrambled to turn and face his attacker.

The man held a pistol and it was trained on Jeff's head. He glared at the boy and asked slowly, "What do you want?"

"Do I get three wishes? Let's see… my old life back? But I somehow doubt that's a wish you can grant." Jeff regained his composure and rose to his feet.

"I take it you're that Benson kid?" The man ejected the magazine from the pistol and tossed the unloaded weapon onto his bed. "Are you even supposed to be up here?"

"You're not going to shoot me?"

"I should, but I don't think I will. So what the hell do you want? I'm hungry _and_ I'm impatient, so make it quick."

Jeff was taken aback by this man's casual manner, expecting the usual of some drill instructor or anything of the sort. He raised an eyebrow and examined him more closely. By the look of things, he was a civilian. "You're not with UNSC, are you?"

"Good guess." The man took a peek at his watch and made a face. "Looks like I missed dinner. How was the turkey?"

"Dry," Jeff stated almost automatically, then shook his head. The guy was throwing him off. "I mean, what are you doing here?"

The man threw up his hands and sighed. "Finally, here we go. As much as I like to do my job, which I shouldn't have to explain to a six year old, I love money. And when the navy people come-a-knocking with a great offer, how could I refuse? Halsey knew you'd try to pull something like that."

"How much?"

"North of a few thousand and an all-expense-paid vacation to the great outdoors," he said, and swept his hand around the room. "Sounds like a deal to me."

"You accepted."

"Of course I accepted."

"Well, aren't you the shameless bastard. We've been kept in the dark, so what's going to happen here?"

The man's eyes softened slightly and he clenched his jaw. "Halsey didn't tell you?" When Jeff didn't answer, he replied hesitantly, "If you're lucky, you'll survive 'training'."

Jeff snapped his fingers and grinned. "I'm going to wash out."

"It doesn't work that way."

"You have any better ideas?"

"Train like hell and you better get used to it."

"See, I can't accept that. How about I make things real difficult and you can come in and teach me a thing or two."

He stared hard at Jeff for a moment, then said, "You're crazy."

"What do the DIs have that you don't?

"Are you trying to start something?"

"All I'm saying is if you're not good enough, you don't have to be insecure about it."

"Okay, kid, you know what? I'm going to take up your offer just because I can. I'm going to march up to Halsey's office and tell her I'm going to be a part of her project now."

"That's the way! What if she doesn't listen?"

"I'll make her listen."

"Good on you. I'll see you in the morning." Jeff stepped out the door and turned back once again. "And get some sleep tonight. You look dead."

Andrews watched the kid leave his cabin, then his words finally hit him. He replayed the conversation mentally and frowned. When did it turn on him? On the plus side, he might have a chance to save Jeff now. But unfortunately, it would take time. Thanks to his ego, he didn't know what he'd gotten himself into this time.

"Shit."

**A/n** (April 22, 2007): That took a longer time to rewrite than I thought it would.


	4. Chapter IV

**2130 Hours, July 26, 2523 (Military Calendar) \ Epsilon Eridani system, planet Reach, Training Exercise**

"Jeff, you're sure you have everything."

"I think so."

"You can't just _think_ so. You need to be sure."

"Fine, I'm _sure_ I have everything."

"Better. Then let's go over your mission," Paul said.

"I get into the Tango Company Base, avoid being shot and/or killed, then I grab the flag," Jeff said with a smile. "No trouble at all."

"If I'm correct, they'll probably be using live rounds again this time. Keep a low profile and your head down. So just get out there and do your thing."

"Yes sir," Jeff said as he grabbed his refitted rifle and fed a dart into the chamber. He pocketed a case of spares, and with a mocking, two-fingered salute, he turned on his heel and then started out into the woods.

Jeff glanced at his watch. It read 9:45 pm. Unlike most of the people on Reach, Jeff preferred his watch on the 12 Hour setting. He just didn't seem to fit into the military. As he walked into the clearing, he spotted the Tango Company base camp. Paul told him that the Spartans were going to be there at 2202 hours. Or as he understood, 10:02 pm (1). Jeff crept near the back of the base. It was the least defended and had just a chain link fence which, hopefully, was not electrifying. He considered knocking out marine on patrol to feed him into the fence first, before he tried anything stupid, but time wasn't on his side tonight.

He pulled out a bolt cutter and got to work in carefully snipping each wire, producing the slightest of holes, so that from a distance it looked undisturbed. Jeff stepped through the hole in the fence and smiled. He was in the camp and phase one of his plan was complete.

Jeff looked up into the guard tower and saw a marine on watch. He climbed up the ladder until he was centimeters away from the open hatch. The sentry hadn't detected him yet, and Jeff readied a dart pistol. Pointing it directly upwards, he whistled softly. As he saw something stand over the hatch and peer down into the darkness below, his finger tapped the trigger with lightning speed. The marine crumpled to the floor. Jeff climbed up into the tower and trussed up and gagged the downed marine. Phase two was complete.

Jeff readied his rifle. The Spartans-in-training would most likely be coming the way they did before. Jeff had watched them through his sniper rifle on their last training exercise. But tonight, they were going to get a nasty little surprise. And, he would get some moving targets finally. Jeff grinned as his watch read 10:02. A truck pulled up to the main gates of the camp. Jeff squinted to see the Spartans. It was dark and he had to assume they were hiding underneath the truck. _A classic never dies_, he reasoned and watched as the Tango Company marines, totally oblivious, were shot up with darts. One of the Spartans ran to the flag pole and started pulling the flag down.

Jeff lined the cross hair up with the Spartan's neck and waited two heartbeats, then squeezed the trigger. The kid's hand flew to his neck and collapsed at the foot of the pole. Another Spartan looked around, trying to spot the sniper. Jeff had to act fast. Within a few quick hand motions from the second boy, he would be found out, targeted, and then shot by another hidden sniper. Jeff crouched low so he wouldn't be seen, then popped up and quickly shot the Spartan in the arm. When the third Spartan saw two of his teammates down, he quickly ran to aid them but failed as Jeff's finger twitched once more and took him out.

The flag was three quarters of the way down already, so Jeff slid down the ladder out of the tower and tore the flag off the pole. With a small grin, he ran into the shadows and watched the scene unfold. He saw an officer stroll out of the main building accompanied by four marines. The marines quickly checked over the kids lying on the ground and began to tie them up. The officer rubbed his chin thoughtfully, no doubt trying to figure out how the kids had fallen into his hands, suddenly looked up at the pole and swore. The flag was gone. And so was Jeff.

"Well, that was an easy one," Andrews remarked as Jeff laid out the flag on the table.

"So what's the going rate for this thing?" Jeff asked.

"_Going rate_?"

"I mean, a nice flag like this… coupled with the fact that they lost it once already, right? And I overheard something about their pay getting docked if they didn't have it for inspection tomorrow, too."

"It's only a flag, Jeff."

"And that's why I left them three captives. Do you think 100 is enough?"

"100?"Paul frowned. "I was thinking—"

"I'll let you keep half," Jeff said as he leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms.

"100 it is, then," Andrews laughed. He dug into his coat pocket and removed a chatter. He held it up, then tossed it over to Jeff. "You have a number?"

"Well, I get around and know a guy…" Jeff studied the device for a moment, turned to his surprised teacher and smiled. "I'm very talented."

He held a finger for silence then spoke. "Come in, Tango Company. Do you read?"

The gruff voice answered. "Who the hell is this?"

"How's your flag, Sergeant? Or have you lost it again?"

"Slimy piece of—"

"Sergeant, I'm a nice guy. I think we can work a deal out."

"A deal? Who the hell do you think you are? I got three of your boys here at the base. How's about you come down and pick them up in exchange for the flag?"

Jeff interrupted him, "No deal. You can break their knees, torture them, _kill_ them for all I care. Those guys are yours to keep."

The voice was silent for a moment, then asked slowly, "What did you have in mind?"

"One hundred cred, and I'll need that in my friend's account."

"One hundred is a little steep. What if—"

"No negotiation. A hundred won't be so bad compared to losing three weeks' pay."

"That's blackmail."

"That's business. I'll text you the info."

**0600 Hours, July 27, 2523 (Military Calendar) \ Epsilon Eridani system, planet Reach**

Sergeant William Banks walked to the edge of the field. He was completely alone on the field until a boy materialized out of the morning fog. He looked about 12 years old. _Surely this can't be the guy that grabbed the flag last night_, Banks thought. He peered forward to look closer at the kid.

"You the guy with our flag?" he asked incredulously.

Jeff patted his coat pocket. He said, "Yes sir, I do. The money?"

Banks held up a card and offered it to Jeff. "Use a chatter and scan for the code, and the transaction should start. Now, the flag?"

Jeff tucked the card into his pocket and glanced around, stretching and inhaling deeply. "No snipers here, I see. Wouldn't want anyone to see what happens here. Or maybe you're a man of your word after all."

Banks rolled his eyes. With a sigh, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pistol. He thumbed the safety and trained it on Jeff's head. "You know, I almost hate to do this, but I don't see why I have to pay a squirt like you."

Jeff raised his hands and stared at him in disgust. "Too bad, Sergeant, I almost liked you," he said, his voice frigid. Suddenly, he grabbed the handgun and kicked Banks in the groin. As the sergeant doubled over with a moan, Jeff pointed the gun at Banks' head. Now the sergeant stood, wide-eyed and defenseless.

"I don't think you'll pull that trigger, boy. So what are you going to do now?"

Jeff grinned and lowered the pistol. He chuckled, "Nothing. I just wanted you to turn around so _he_ could get behind you."

Banks slowly turned around, where his face was greeted by Andrews' solid rifle butt. After a pulpy _thwack_, Banks dropped to the ground with a bloody, gash in the side of his head. He struggled to get to his knees, but flopped onto his back while clutching his head. The two stood over the downed marine, while he cursed and rolled around on the ground.

Jeff tossed the handgun to Andrews, who quickly pocketed the ammunition, disassembled the weapon, and threw the parts aside. Now the kid reached into his pocket and pulled out the flag, which Jeff had cheerfully tore into and cut out the crest. He dropped it beside Banks and shook his head with a _tsk_. A moment later, the two vanished back into the fog like phantoms.

"You mutilated their flag?" Andrews asked in disbelief, as the two finally reached his cabin.

"You didn't think I'd give it to them just like that, did you?"

"Well, they did pay us an easy hundred." Andrews held up the card and began to scan the code with his chatter.

"That they did, and now you can buy me a drink."

"You're not even old enough. Go get yourself some breakfast instead."

**1130 Hours March 09, 2525 (Military Calendar) / Sol System / Weyn Spaceport**

The mercenary stared at Jeff. He just couldn't let it happen to him. Even though he might live, he knew Jeff wouldn't want that. He was bringing him back from a week long "field trip". The other children had stayed on Reach for most of their duration of training. They didn't know how to act in the real world, was the common belief.

But it was time. His orders were to bring him in for the procedure.

Andrews clenched his fist. He just couldn't let Jeff become a Spartan. From what he had taught Jeff, there was nothing in it for him. Maybe for the good of mankind, but not for him. What if Jeff died? He could always make a living as a marine and still serve the UNSC.

He knew what he had to do.

"Jeff, come here. We're going to have a little discussion."

As they walked through the terminal, Andrews turned to Jeff. "Did you ever want to become a Spartan?" he asked.

"A Spartan? No way. That's why I joined up with you," Jeff replied.

"Smart guy."

When they reached the gate, Paul whispered to Jeff. "Here's your chance. You have to run away, Jeff. Run from Halsey. I took you on as my pupil because I thought I could redeem myself for bringing you here in the first place."

"Run from the program?" Jeff asked, his expression calm, but his tone in awe. "You're crazy."

"Here's a boarding pass on a shuttle to Earth. It leaves in five minutes," Andrews said, shoving the pass into Jeff's hand.

"You're kidding me, right? What am I going to do there, by myself?"

"Disappear. Can't send you home again, kid. And I'm truly sorry about that." Andrews sighed, but then froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple of suits near the gate. "We're being followed."

"The big guys watching us for five minutes? I thought they were with you."

"Fuck!" Andrews growled as they began to walk towards him. "This is for you, Jeff. Get moving. Now!"

He scanned Jeff's pass quickly and urged him forward. When the suits neared, he whipped around and caught one in the jaw. Andrews laid a few punches into the man's face, his elbows tucked in and fists raised like a boxer. With a strong hook, he dropped one. Over his shoulder he yelled, "Go, Jeff!"

Spaceport security began to catch wind of the commotion. One suit reached inside his jacket, but Andrews palmed a switchblade from his sleeve and rammed it into the man's fleshy gut. The searing pain caused the man to yell out and squeeze the trigger of his concealed service weapon. The muffled pop pounded throughout the room, and people began to scream.

"He's got a gun!"

Andrews roughly hauled Jeff up and tossed him through the closing gate as sirens began to go off. He whispered, "Don't let them get you."

As Jeff ran down the boarding ramp, he glanced back but only saw the terminal guards standing over a body, sprawled on the ground riddled with holes.

**Rewrite** (April 28, 2007): Finally. That took a while.

(July 30/10) – I didn't want to change too much, but there are a few different things towards the end. More specifically I wanted to add this in… (below)

(1) I want to give a shout out to Shadecaster in the comments from 3 years ago. When I wrote Jeff didn't care to use military time, it was just a way to use the twelve hour clock instead of using the twenty-four like in the Halo novels. I did have a grasp on the twenty-four hour, but until Shadecaster finally brought it up, I thought I'd gone back and fixed it in the rewrite. It turns out, the time was fine, I accidentally put pm instead of am. So thank you for catching my 5 year old slip up. I've fought hard to not include Jeff is bad at time jokes in the rest of the rewrite.


	5. Chapter V

**11:00 PM, August 20, 2537 / New Vancouver, Earth**

John Wilfred stepped out into the warm summer air of the city, and undid the buttons on his coat before hurrying down the steps of the city hall to the parking lot. He was fed-up with the pulling the late-nighters, and all he wanted was to recline, grab a cool glass of chilled beer and catch the grav-ball game highlights before falling asleep on the couch— then waking up to another day of toil and drudgery in his stuffy office. Another year, he assured himself, then he'd have the freedom he wanted.

He made his way underneath a street lamp and stood underneath the beam of light which cut through the dark night, in which the moon barely illuminated. He dug into his pocket and produced an electronic device. Pressing a button, his car, parked in the same "reserved for" space, came to life and its headlights shone out. As Wilfred approached the vehicle, the door hissed open and he took a seat behind the wheel.

"Welcome back, Judge," the disembodied voice flowed through the car. The bars on the display in the console rose and fell to match the AI's voice.

"I'm sorry, Jeeves. Paperwork and lots of it. Did you wait long?"

The program was silent for two seconds, then decided it didn't know how to reply. Driver was the basic program for each vehicle. The car could be driven manually or by an AI, and in the busy streets of the city, computer control was strongly advised. Each Driver was a dumb AI who only concentrated on the road, but excelled in doing so. It knew the locations of every installed coordinates and interacted with every other program active on the road.

"Your destination, Judge?"

As he was about the reply, his chatter rang a catchy dance tune made up of electronic beeps and whistles. He usually waited to hear the entire and answered the chatter at the last possible second. But tonight, he was in no mood for that and answered the call two notes in. He put the phone to his right ear.

"Wilfred," he spoke into the receiving end with an irritated tone. He waited a three seconds for a reply and when there was none, he asked, "Who the hell is this?"

As soon as he finished, he heard a muffled crack of a rifle from the other end… then the sharp crack of glass—

"Your destination, Judge?" the voice asked after a minute. It asked once more, and with no reply again, it repeated the same query over and over again, but no one was listening except for the caller who had dropped the disposable chatter, and the Driver's voice continued to echo through the earpiece.

"Wilfred killed!" As the headlines ran through giant city-square screens, handheld data pads, computers, and papers, citizens of the city were dumbfounded. They crowded around the square as they watched the report, but only one of the bystanders didn't react to the news. Twenty year-old Jeff Benson allowed himself the slightest of smiles for his handiwork. Keeping his head down, he flipped the collar of his coat and shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he weaved through the almost motionless people on the sidewalk back to his apartment.

Earth had changed. He had only seen vids and images of old Vancouver when he was little, but the new city was fantastic. Jeff would give anything to go back to Elysium city, but no doubt he was a wanted man now. Wilfred wasn't the first, and wouldn't be, not by a long shot.

His apartment building wasn't the nicest one out there, but his water was of a healthy colouration, and there weren't giant insects living on his carpet, so he called it home. He considered meeting a nice girl, but he couldn't just tell her that he killed people for a living, so he was alone for now.

Jeff threw his coat onto his bed and powered down another disposable chatter he kept in his pocket, registered under a fake ID. He placed that on his night table, and switched off the lamp. From across the room, his actual chatter began to ring. He made his way around the bed and reached for the device. As his fingers curled around the plastic, he paused for a moment. Most of his business calls he received on his other chatter. Every contact knew he was Jeff Benson and also knew to use his alias, just to keep under the radar. Maybe this call was important… he didn't give away his number very often. He slowly raised the device to his ear and it automatically put him through to the other end.

"_Mr. Benson?"_ the voice inquired.

"Who the hell is this?"

"_Are you up for a job?"_

"A job." Jeff stood still and narrowed his eyes. Perhaps this was an important client. He decided to keep playing, until he could find out more. "How much for?"

"_You're not even going to ask what it is?"_

"I'm very polite," Jeff replied, in an annoyed tone, like it was common knowledge not to ask questions until the plan was presented and set.

"_Getting right to the point? I like your style. Maybe we can work together after all. How's north of two million sound, Mr. Benson?"_

"Two million?" he repeated, but froze after it registered in his brain. It was hard for people to make so much in a year. All he had to do was pull this job off. Jeff definitely wanted a challenge, although the stakes could be a little risky.

"_That's right. Are you going to take up the job?"_

"Lemme check my schedule."

"_So you'll take it?"_

"Yes."

"_Then the job plans are waiting outside your door."_

"Once I finish the job, where do I meet you?"

"_Meet me?" _the voice paused._ "Oh yes, contact me through this number once you're done."_

With that, the caller killed the connection, and Jeff was frozen in the middle of his apartment with the chatter stuck to his ear. He lowered the device and set it down on the counter, and then made his way to the door. Jeff left a hand on a pistol, which he'd tucked away in his back pocket. Standing off to one side of the door, he reached over and on the count of three, twisted the knob and pulled the door open quickly. Waiting for a second, he finally jumped through the frame with his weapon held out in front of him, ready for action… right as a very surprised woman was walking through the hallway inside the complex.

The two stood still for a moment, Jeff, his hands gripping the pistol tightly, and the woman, wide-eyed and ready to scream. Jeff opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He hid the pistol behind his back, hoping she didn't see it. He gave her a slight wave. "How you doing?"

The woman dropped her shopping bag and took off down the stairs to the lobby with a panicked cry and Jeff was left standing alone in the hallway like an idiot. He rolled his eyes and sighed. Looking down, he saw that he had stepped on the brown envelope left before his door. Muttering to himself, he picked up the now-creased package and smoothed out the wrinkles before returning into his apartment.

"This can't be all bad," Jeff muttered to himself as he laid its contents on his living room table. He looked at a letter that was written to him. Jeff read it out loud.

"'I have given you a layout of the Medical Facility of the ONI base on Reach. You need to-'" Jeff caught his breath. "Reach?"

He finished reading the letter, and dug into the layouts and plans. He was to infiltrate the facility and get into the network. From there, he would download every file he could find on the Spartan IIs—information on each candidate, the specifics for the augmentation—everything. With those files, someone could threaten to tell the public of the program and there would be panic in the streets. The guy on the other end could make a lot of money from it, of course, if he wasn't eliminated first.

But Jeff didn't have to worry about that. All he needed were the plans, and after that, it would be out of his hands, and replaced by sweet, sweet credit. He gazed out of his twelfth-floor room window and figured that it was time to make a final appearance.

"Reach, here I come."

**A/n May 13, 2007**: Looks like I changed more than I thought.


	6. Chapter VI

**August 30, 2537 / ****9:00 pm, Planet Reach**

* * *

Getting to Reach was easier than Jeff expected. After meeting a few contacts and a bit of credit, he accompanied a freighter ship on its way to the planet. The crew wasn't exactly what one would call UNSC regulars, nor plain civilians. He gathered they were like himself and didn't care so much that he planned to jump into a crate with a suspicious duffel bag and a loaded pistol tucked into his back pocket. With a few hours of air and trust in the captain to do him a favour, he was ready for almost anything.

Smooth talking and a few on-the-inside guys got the captain and his load out of the docking bay. After being wheeled out back with the rest of the shipment, Jeff climbed out of the container and made his way through the camp, avoiding sentries and sensors. He would wait until dark to spring.

Now Jeff put together his rifle and hugged the wall when a marine patrol went past. Nothing really seemed to be happening so he decided he would strike now. He slid out of his leather coat and left it on top of the small container, next he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing dark under-armour. He produced a pair of black gloves and slid a clip in his pistol, strapping the holster to his thigh. Jeff picked up a two magazines for his rifle and brought the strap over his head and onto his chest, so that it was secure.

Even in the dark, Jeff could see everything as bright as day. He made his way over to the ventilation system. Before he was about to climb in, he paused and tapped the thin sheet of metal of the ventilation pipes. The sound reverberated and echoed through the entire system, so he thought better of that plan, and decided to scale the building instead.

At a nearby sunroof, he peered down into a hallway. Two guards stood in the middle, conversing with each other. He noted that it was the most direct route to where he was headed, so he was going to take it. Jeff hoped his quick reaction was enough, so he stood over the dome of glass and pulled a hand back, trying to gain as much power as he could. He forcefully whipped his fist forward, into the glass, expecting the material to crack and dent, and even shatter to bits—but it never happened. There was a dull _thunk_ as his fist connected and he recoiled in pain. Apparently the glass in this place was bullet proof and as strong as a stone wall.

Down below, however, the guards looked up at the second they heard the impact, and saw Jeff's form against the moonlight. They motioned to each other and began to take off down the hallway. Jeff glanced down and saw that the two guards were gone. He swore and withdrew his rifle. As the door leading onto the roof flung open and the guards shot through, Jeff had already drawn a bead on the first guard. He squeezed the trigger twice, and the silenced rifle coughed and kicked back, sending the rounds through the man's chest and head. The second guard froze for a minute, until Jeff put another between his eyes. Before the body hit the ground, Jeff had already dashed over to the door before it closed and locked shut.

He slid in and made his way down the stairs, walking in on another pair of guards who stood in a doorway and had come to investigate. The three were still for a second before Jeff flew forward and slammed the door, managing to hit one. He opened the door again and grabbed the stunned guard's shirt by the collar, hauling him in the room before the man could recover from the heavy-door-to-the-face trick. Jeff threw him to the ground, and pushed the door shut once again, this time locking the second man out. The knob rattled from the outside and there was heated yelling as he tried to gain entrance into the room.

Jeff quickly grabbed the guard and dragged him to his feet. He grabbed his head and kneed him in the gut, then swung a fist and caught the guard in the cheek. The man staggered, but continued to stand upright. Jeff got him in a headlock and lugged him towards the door. He pulled it open to reveal the second guard with his firearm drawn, ready to shoot the lock off. Quickly, Jeff thrust his victim into the other, who tried to avoid his partner and at the same time keep his balance. Jeff stepped forward and powerfully put his fist into the back of the first guard's head, in turn driving it forward into the second guard's nose.

The first dropped to the floor—winded or out cold. The second guard's hands flew to his bleeding nostril and took two steps back. Jeff unclipped his rifle and lunged forward, but he didn't even bother to shoot his victim. He drove his heel into the man's knee with so much force, he heard a _crack! _The man screamed in agony and began to fall to the side, but Jeff silenced him with a heavy upwards blow to the side of the head with the metal butt of his rifle, causing him to topple to the ground.

As if on cue, a door swung open and one more guard rushed in. Jeff didn't want to waste any more time. But this guy brandished a night-stick, meaning he wanted a good fight. Jeff didn't want to engage in any more hand-to-hand skirmishes, but this one gave him no chance and he swung the stick at Jeff's head. Jeff easily ducked to avoid the blow. He prepared to punch him in the jaw, but out of nowhere, the guard quickly dropped down and whipped out his foot catching him off guard and in the gut. The guard jumped up and brought the stick down at a vertical slashing motion at Jeff, who lay on the ground. He rolled over, the stick narrowly missing his unprotected head.

The guard swung the blunt weapon once again, but this time, Jeff was ready. He held out his gloved hand and caught the stick before it reached his face. It stung his palm like hell, but now Jeff wrenched the stick away from the guard by tugging and whipping a fist into the guard's arm until he pinned it against a wall. As quick as lightning, he struck the guard across the face with the night-stick, leaving a deep red mark. The guard reached for a pistol that was holstered to his belt.

Jeff ran at the guard and pushed him into the wall once again, and the pistol flew out of his hand. The man lashed out with his fist and caught Jeff in the head. Jeff staggered about for a few seconds, but during those few seconds, the guard was on to him. The man roughly grabbed Jeff's shoulders and stuck the hard rubber sole of a shoe into his back. Pain shot through his spine and Jeff whirled around while swinging the stick at the guard. To his surprise, the stick splintered and the man staggered uneasily.

This was his chance; the guard was still recovering from the violent blow. Jeff ran at him, and in one swift motion, he slammed the broken stick into the guard. The broken end of the stick was jagged and it had been driven right into the guard's bulk. Jeff took a few steps back as the man gave a dying gurgle and collapsed.

Jeff wiped the sweat and blood off his brow and tenderly looked over his wounds. He glanced at his watch. He had wasted too much time fighting off guards and he wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible. Jeff glanced at the elevator, and then the stairs. He was saving his strength for his brilliant escape, so he entered the elevator. He punched in the number of Dr. Halsey's office floor but suddenly, half way there, the elevator stopped in its tracks. Jeff swore and tried to push a button, but it was no use. Apparently, they knew he was here and they had locked the elevator. He thought he'd disabled their security feeds, but apparently they had a guy in today to fix it.

A slight change of plan, but he wasn't totally unprepared for it. Jeff climbed on the rail and pushed the grating open. He grabbed hold of the edges and pulled himself up to the top of the car and closed the entrance behind him. There were narrow slits, and Jeff used this to peek back into the elevator. There was a dim, flashing red light throughout the entire shaft, so he was careful to stand off to the side, his shadow unseen.

He saw the elevator doors being pried open and two guards with rifles walked in. One of them put a radio to his scowling lips when he couldn't find his target. Jeff pulled out his pistol and thumbed the safety. In a swift motion, he opened the hatch, quickly took aim, and squeezed the trigger. There was a muffled pop as the bullet exploded from the muzzle, flew through one of the guard's head, and planted itself into the polished wooden paneling of the car, followed by a splatter of blood. The other guard dropped the radio and fired a burst up into the hatch, the rounds almost hitting Jeff's head. Two more men filed into the elevator, while firing wildly into the ceiling, in hopes of nailing the hitman, who had to hug the shaft wall in order to avoid the sloppily placed bullets.

No doubt that the guard with the radio was calling for more reinforcements, so Jeff whipped out a clip and attached a hook on his belt to one of the thick elevator cords. He pulled the two cords together and held the pistol to them. Jeff wished he knew if the single round was strong enough to sever both at once, because if only one of them broke, he would either go down with the car or up into the wheel. Either way, it wasn't going to be a pretty sight for him. He hoped for the best, and put a round through them. The flash illuminated the dark shaft and he could hear the screams of the guards as the car fell through the shaft, rapidly descending. After a minute Jeff heard the car smash at the bottom.

Only then he realized that the direction he wanted to go was down. So much for all the thrilling heroics. He was stuck in the dark, hanging in the middle of an elevator shaft. He came here to complete a job, so getting arrested and/or killed after all this work would just be a waste. Jeff's only concern was if he held onto one cable and let himself drop until his destination, there would be no counter-weight, and he'd basically be in freefall the entire way down. He shook his head and thought of the pay off. He'd gotten out of worse situations, so with faith in his own abilities and a little luck… Still securely clipped to both cords, he let himself dangle and reached into his equipment pack. Retrieving two magnetic devices which he strapped the underside of his wrists, he held one cord, clenched his jaw, and let go of the other.

Jeff plummeted through the shaft until his earpiece beeped, warning him of his designated floor and he let go of the cord, at the same time propelling himself towards the wall of the shaft and activating the magnets. His torso and legs slammed into the surface of the wall and he winced in pain from the impact. Jeff exhaled and tried to get some footing, and after a moment of feeling around, he found he was right at the door he needed. He took his hand off the magnet and tapped his ear piece, contacting a member of the freighter crew.

While Jeff was infiltrating the facility, the crew was also doing a job around the building. He didn't ask questions about their work, and for more money, they would help him out. He heard a beep, and a moment later a voice came through.

"Benson?"

"I'm going to need your help now. I'm stuck in the elevator shaft. Uh, eighteenth—"

"There's only fifteen floors… where are _you_?"

"Eighteenth _down_," Jeff said with an irritated sigh. "There should be maintenance control panel beside each door, used in case of emergency stops."

"Or in case of a lockdown—and which the guy would be trapped behind a locked door. Give me one second." There was a rustling noise from the other end and a squeak of an opening panel cover. A moment later, the doors silently slid apart beside Jeff, and he jumped through the opening.

"But I doubt that guy had a second guy with a key on the other side. Thanks for that. I'll see you on the ship." He smiled and killed the connection.

Jeff rounded a bend and stopped to peek through the glass, seeing Halsey in the room he needed to get to. He made his way through the corridor, moving around the security feed to a maintenance room where he spied what he needed: the breaker box. Jeff opened the panel and ran a finger over each switch and dial, scanning each printed heading until he found the one he needed. Next, he opened yet another panel, revealing a mess of wires. He rifled through this quickly, finding the wires and ports he needed. He swiped at his utility belt and removed an electronic device. He worked with the panel and device, thinking of what he'd been instructed to do. When he was about ready, he set the device, and the screen read "2 MINS".

Jeff turned back to the breaker box, and with a flick of a switch, the room and hallway were plunged into darkness until only the blinking lights of the status console in the box that illuminated his face remained. He shut the box without a sound and made his way into the corridor, careful to proceed around the dim, red lights powered by the back-up generator, as well as the guard and his flashlight. Jeff snuck around the bend, peering into the office. The doctor had probably taken the stairs to see what had happened, giving Jeff a little bit of time before he was found out.

He entered the room and a squeal of crushed styrofoam greeted his ears. Jeff raised his foot in surprise and gazed around the darkened room. Coffee cups littered the floor, the desk, filing cabinets, and even the computers. He moved her chair out of the way, leaning over the desk with his eyes fixated on the screen. He counted the two minutes, and light flooded the room. The computer hummed to life, and Jeff pulled out a memory crystal and inserted it into the machine quickly downloading the files. After a quick minute, he pocketed the crystal made his way back to the hallway with a slight smile. He was almost home.

Jeff's hand fell across the remote to access his device and dim the lights. Before stepping out into the hallway, he tapped the button and he was blinded again for a moment. Suddenly, there was a yell from the end of the corridor. A fire team with assault rifles, flashlights and night vision/thermal goggles began to surge towards him. Jeff swore and dove back into the office before the marines could open fire. When the first marine came through the doorway, he received a fist to the jaw and a kick in the gut from Jeff and collapsed.

Jeff pulled out a flash bang grenade and glanced around the corner. He was hoping things wouldn't get as heated as they had, but all that stood between him and escape. He pulled the pin and lobbed it against the wall. It ricocheted and landed in front of the marines. He heard one of them yell before the grenade exploded in a blinding flash of light. Jeff sprinted down the hallway, until he was blocked off by more marines. In a mad dash, he charged this group. He swung his fist and caught one in the ear, elbowed someone in the nose, and tackled another, in an effort to make his way to the exit sign.

But before he could cause any more damage, due to the dark, he didn't see the butt of a rifle collide with his forehead. He grunted and slumped against the wall, blinded by pain. The marines took this opportunity to wind him, throw a few blows of their own at his face, then pinned him to the floor. Jeff felt cuffs being locked onto his wrists.

"Mr. Benson?" one asked, motioning for two others to haul him to his feet.

Jeff winced from his bruises. "How did you know?"

"I've got to thank a friend of ours. He told us all about you, and what you were doing. I suppose we've got to live up to our end of the bargain for delivering you straight to us."

He froze as he heard this. Jeff didn't ask the freighter captain questions, and neither did he. He told no one else his plan, and the only one who knew about this was…

"Son of a bitch set me up," he muttered in a low voice to himself.

The marine chuckled and said, "Yeah, sure as hell."

And with that, he smashed butt of his handgun into the back of Jeff's head, knocking him out.

* * *

**A/n (June 2, 2007)**: That took a long, long time. 


	7. Chapter VII

**August 27, 2537 / 11:00 am, Planet Reach**

Jeff stirred from his sleep. He opened his eyes, hoping for the scenery around him to be his apartment back on Earth. But no, he was still on Reach, cuffed to a bedpost and lying on the floor. Though he always had a stunt up his sleeve, he couldn't think of anything. A door hissed open and in stepped the person whom Jeff never wanted to lay eyes on again.

"Oh, that's perfect." He looked away and rolled his eyes. He didn't expect her to be too pleased with him. And now, she had him caught in her web.

"Spartan 000, how have you been?" Dr. Halsey asked with a slight smile. Odd, he expected her to be beating him with a steel rod for attempting to steal from her right about now. Instead she looked a little pleased.

Jeff raised an eyebrow and looked around the room. "_Zero-zero-zero_?"

"That would be you."

"If that was the number you assigned to me time ago, you can take it away. I'm not a Spartan anymore. And I don't plan to be, either. So, if this is what that was all about, you can release me."

"But even if I did release you, aren't you forgetting something?" Dr. Halsey's smile grew a little larger. She slowly brought a memory crystal up to view. "This data is the reason you're here."

Jeff eyed the cube hungrily. "Yeah… but it's not important to me, so you can keep it if you want."

"Don't you have a considerable sum of money to collect?"

"Were you two planning this all along?"

"After a little digging, your name turned up a few times. He told us about you…but not how much he was paying. It's outrageous. If you were thinking, Jeff, you'd know it was a set up."

"So… I take it he's not going to pay me."

"No." The doctor sighed. "In the meantime, think about this opportunity. But for now, we'll allow you to wander the grounds, but there will be someone watching you at all times.

Jeff nodded thoughtfully, but Dr. Halsey spoke once more, "You're probably planning your 'magnificent' escape from here, but it won't happen. We're checking every cargo hold from now on."

Shit. So much for that plan. The bastards on the freighter he came in probably left him for dead, anyhow.

Two marines wielding rifles entered the room and removed the ropes that bound his legs together first then unbound his wrists. Halsey knew he was plotting an escape, but let him without cuffs anyways. Jeff was strong, but he wasn't bullet proof. At least, not yet.

Jeff looked down, he wore the same thing as the night before…but, his coat. Where were all his weapons? And his beloved rifle? He turned around to face the Doctor. "Where are all my effects?"

"Jeff, I know you aren't stupid. But everyone knows that you don't give a weapon to a prisoner?"

"I don't want them right now, but if you broke them…"

"Don't worry, they're just being held elsewhere throughout the facility," Halsey told him. She motioned to one of the marines, and Jeff was hauled to his feet.

"All right, what's the plan now? You going to drag me around on a leash and show off that you captured me?"

"I'd like to, but I wouldn't do that. I'm here to show you your options and let you… reminisce."

"Oh, is that it?" Jeff asked with mock surprise. "Okay, reminiscing… done reminiscing. I want out now."

After the Doctor had shown him to out to the courtyard, Jeff decided to walk back to his room, but he nearly ran head-on into another woman coming out through the doors.

"Sorry," Jeff muttered and sidestepped to let her through. He just wanted to keep his head down for the rest of his trip, make as little contact as he possibly could, and escape as soon as possible. The only problem was…

"It's quite all right," she just _had_ to reply, stop and turn to face him. "I'm Jen Wilson."

Jeff swore inwardly, but put on a friendly smile and looked at her. "And I'm Jeff Benson. It's a pleasure, ma'am."

Jen raised an eyebrow and looked him over. "Are you with the military?"

"No, I'm just here on, uh," Jeff hesitated before finding his word. "Business. It's a business trip."

"What business are you in?"

Jeff thought about telling her that he murdered people for a living, so he could put some distance between them for the rest of the trip. Instead, he caught the eye of a passing marine, whose leg had been broken by Jeff just the other night and said, "It's kind of confidential."

"Are you a spook?"

"No." Jeff's answer was sharp and shook Jen a little. He closed his eyes and chuckled uneasily. "Way to make myself look wicked conspicuous. But seriously, though, it's all pretty secretive. Scares even me."

She laughed good-naturedly, "But you're not ONI, right? Why was Dr. Halsey showing you around? I've been here a few months and I still don't know her at all."

"Well, let's just say that I knew the doctor a long time ago. Even makes me feel a little old." Jeff smiled and looked at her in the eyes for the first time. They were an odd shade of blue. Not the cold glass like Dr. Halsey's, but a warm cheerful sort.

"I'm going to hit the shooting range, wanna come along?" Jen asked and returned the grin.

Rifles, as in with live ammunition? Looks like Halsey's plan had a flaw. He strode out the door. "Why not? I can really put my skills to the test."

"You know how to shoot? What _do_ you do for a living?"

Jen stared at Jeff for a few seconds, memorizing his face. His wavy brown hair played in the wind. His eyes were two strange little things. Jeff's irises were a piercing emerald green, and they seemed to dance around in the light. His facial hair had overgrown. Apparently, Jeff hadn't shaved in a few days.

They reached the shooting ranges. Jen picked up a rifle and motioned for him to take one too. Jeff did so and immediately checked the ammunition—it was non-lethal. Enough punch to put through a target board, but not enough to wound a man. He figured he might even give it a try since Halsey wanted him alive anyway. The most he'd get was a slap on the wrist and tied up. He worked the bolt and glanced over at Jen, who was busy loading her own rifle. Jeff turned around slowly, only to meet the eyes of Dr. Halsey. Two marines stood behind her, and another lab-coated doctor behind them.

He gave Halsey a sweet smile which read as "don't be silly, Doctor, I wouldn't try anything like that" and turned back to the shooting range with his lips drawn together in a thin line.

"Look, Jen, I've got to do some very business-y things, okay? I'll see you around."

A/n (August 16, 07): What a bullshit chapter. I just basically cut everything I didn't like. Let's hope I can pick the rest up


	8. Chapter VIII

Warning: Really bad chapter ahead. Could not possibly be salvaged. I wouldn't blame you for skipping it. 

* * *

"I'd like you to meet someone," Dr. Halsey said as he neared. She motioned to a younger woman in her late-twenties, with dirty-blond hair and pale eyes. "This is Dr. Wells."  
Jeff leaned forward to shake Dr. Wells' hand while Halsey kept talking, "She has proposed some new medical technologies that advances the procedure significantly."

He recoiled suddenly, shooting Halsey a look. "So there's no chance I can get out of this at all?" His eyes flitted over to the newcomer, Wells. She looked at Halsey and shrugged. She had delicate features, unlike Dr. Halsey's defined and striking looks. Not that Jeff found her attractive in any way…

"This leaves us with two options, Jeff. You can become a Spartan and serve for the greater good, or you can rot in a cell for the rest of your life. Which, to say, is a waste of your training and talent."

"Thanks for the compliment. I'm so touched. I… I think I'll go and sign up."

"Really?"

"No."

"You were caught red handed for breaking and entering a _supposedly_ secure facility, and I'm not even going to tell you the number of guards you've wounded or killed. So—"

"Six killed and at least three wounded. You were saying?"

"They've imprisoned people for less, you know."

Quite simply, the notion of sitting in a 6 x 6 cell for the forty-some years to come… sucked. Jeff could care less about the ongoing war, and he didn't want to limit himself to a life of fighting and killing. 

Oh, he thought, that's funny. Nevermind, though. The pay probably isn't even as good in the Navy. But jail sounded even worse.

_Screw it. I'll see where this takes me._

"Fine, you win, Halsey. I'd have to choose," Jeff paused, noting that a guard had moved behind him, "a Spartan… but not right away."

"You've made a smart choice, Jeff. Your skills would be a great addition to the UNSC and the other Spartans," Dr. Halsey said, her mouth curled into a small smile.

"They surely will."

* * *

Jeff couldn't sleep. He missed the comfort of his own bed. And the worst thing of all, he couldn't trust those ONI bastards. They might take him while he's asleep. Jeff swung his legs out of bed and stood up. He needed some fresh air.

The cold air of the dark night froze his bare arms. He looked into the forest and sighed. So many little memories existed in this place. He shivered. He had no intention of becoming a Spartan, but being in jail didn't help either. Although, if he went through with this, maybe they'd let him pay that sonnuva bitch who'd set him up a visit.

"What are you?" There was someone behind him.

"Not a freak, I can tell you that much." Jeff turned around. It was Jen. How typical… like in the movies. Now he'd have to try not embarrass himself. "Uh, hey…"

"I overheard your conversation today. You're not in politics, are you?"

"Of a sort, yeah, but it really was business I had to take care of."

"What, is it classified?"

"It probably is. If you ask Halsey and she tells you, then I guess… uh, that it isn't. Look, I honestly don't know."

"If you don't know, why are you here? Somebody doesn't just _become_ a Spartan, I thought."

Jeff made a face. "You thought wrong. I don't know the details, but between you and me, I'm not sticking around to find out."

"So you're escaping, then?"

"Yeah, just don't tell anyone." Jeff stopped and corrected himself. "By 'escape', I mean back out. Legally, mind you."

"Uh huh. So, you're not on Halsey's good side?"

"Something like that. Oh, and try not to mention that little escape comment to anyone for a little while, okay?"

"Sure."

After a few awkward moments of silence, with the two staring out into the night, Jen faced him and said, "You know, you're not much of a flirt."

Jeff looked away with his eyebrows raised. Dammit, she was totally hitting on him.

* * *

Updated March 22, 2008: This was a chore to write, as well as submit. The spacing didn't take or something.


	9. Chapter IX

Jeff sat down at a desk with his hands out in front of him

Jeff sat down at a desk with his hands out in front of him. He needed to do some serious thinking. He also needed to get off Reach…fast. He thought about needing to get off Reach _before_ Wells could have her way with him.

The door hissed open and a single guard strolled through. He was of an average height and in the "pretty-muscular" area.

"Jeff Benson?" the guard asked.

"It's John Benson, sorry. Next room, though."

Ignoring this, the man told him, "Dr. Wells has changed the date of your augmentation. I'm here to escort you to the medical bay."

"She changed the date, did she? Tell her that I'm not ready yet," Jeff said, turning back to face the desk. He looked around again, to see that the guard was still standing there. "Anytime now."

"Look, bud, I'm nobody's messenger boy. So you're going willingly, or I'll have to force you." The guard smiled viciously as he said, "I'm fine with either."

"I'll bet you are." Jeff's back was still facing the guard.

"On your feet. You're coming with me, whether you like it or—" The guard's hand fell across Jeff's shoulder. Biggest mistake he would ever make in his lifetime. Quickly, Jeff grabbed the man's hand and squeezed until he heard a series of cracks. The man screamed out, but Jeff wasn't done with him just yet.

He leapt up, his padded folding chair flipping to its side, and planted his foot into the guard's stomach. The man doubled over in pain. Jeff then brought his elbow down on the man's head. Stunned but not unconscious, the guard took a few steps back, a hand over the back of his head.

Benson snapped the chair up to its folded form and swung the thing like a wooden (scratch that, steel) plank. The guard took the full force behind the swing and dropped, twirling a little on his way down. Before he fell, Jeff ripped the steel baton off his belt. As the man lay on his back, raising his dazed head, Jeff drove the blunt object straight down into his forehead, knocking him out for good.

He searched the guard for anything of value, but the man didn't carry a firearm. Jeff supposed he would just have to find one on the way. He held the baton out in front of him as he exited the room.

Dr. Wells had taken her first bold move in this little game. She probably knew he wouldn't take his medicine, so to speak.

He stepped into the brightly lit hallway and blinked. A door flew open, and another guard walked through, completely oblivious. Jeff hid the baton behind his back and gave the man a friendly smile. He was prepared to let him keep going, until someone on the other end of the corridor yelled for him to stop Jeff. Bastards probably had a surveillance team on his room. It only took a split second before Jeff glanced at the guard's surprised expression and smashed the baton across his face, instantly dropping the thin man.

The guard down the hallway rushed towards him, but not before radioing in for help. The man brandished his own stick as he charged down the passage, hoping to put a little momentum behind his blow.

_Did any security guards carry a good old _traditional_ firearm anymore?_ He bent and snatched up the downed guard's baton. Instead of using the thing to help him fight, he hurled it through the hallway at the oncoming guard. The man knocked it out of midair easily and kept running. Then Jeff chucked the second one low, forcing the guard to either dodge the projectile or get hit in the pelvic region… hard.

Breaking pace, the guard more or less jumped to the side. However, Jeff had timed the throw and now the man left himself open. Benson's right fist connected with the guard's jaw, forcing the man's unbalanced weight (and face) into the wall. And another couple of kicks to the head of the prone body took care of him nicely.

Jeff chose a door and found himself in another hallway. He groused, Why couldn't there have been a directory or something on the walls? Like a "you are here" and the destination you needed was a "door for getting the hell out of here"… but at least there were exit signs. He saw the door leading to a fire escape.

Almost walking out into the open, he stepped back and hugged a wall. Standing just in front of him was a lone guard outfitted with light body armour. The man mumbled something into a radio and held his weapon loosely… a rifle-shaped device which fired electrically charged projectiles (which looked like darts), merely used for restraining prisoners or if a couple DIs wanted to get creative…

Jeff snuck up behind him and kicked the device out of his hands, then put the guard into a headlock and flexed his arm. He dragged him back into the fire escape, while the man clawed frantically at his attacker, landing in a blow to Jeff's stomach. With a grunt, Benson released him.

The man jabbed with a fist, while Jeff blocked it, grabbed his helmet, and tore it off his head. A second later, Jeff flipped it so he held the visor and smashed the metal shell into the guard's unprotected head, causing the man to tumble down the narrow stairway, bleeding from a cut on the side of his head and nose.

Jeff inhaled sharply and tossed the helmet aside.

He returned to where he had dropped the taser rifle but, looking around, could not find it. Jeff knew it had been right where he was standing just seconds ago. There was the sound of footsteps behind him, and he instantly jumped out of the way as a dart whooshed past. Before the guy behind him could readjust his aim, Jeff had already run up, pushed the barrel aside and had him by the throat, pushing him back into the fire escape.

This guy probably saw the rifle lying harmlessly on its side a little earlier without its user, and thought to get behind Jeff by taking the stairs, when he came across the other guard lying on his back. If that meant even more people…

Jeff wrestled the man for control of the rifle, until three more men came up the stairs and aimed their weapons at the two. The rifle between Jeff and his attacker went off, unleashing a hail of darts, thudding into the newcomers. Two began to shudder violently from the electricity, while the third took a dart in the thigh. This guy was still running up the stairs, and now his leg gave away. Jeff heard him scream out and tumble down the entire length of the fire escape.

Jeff stopped fighting with the man for a moment and chuckled, hearing the thud of the body below. The man across from him also laughed good-naturedly, and Jeff pushed the rifle upward into his nose. Then he threw this guard down the stairs as well.

Coming to a room labeled "Detainee Equipment Lockers" (how convenient), he kicked open the door and rifled through each locker and cubby, looking for his things. He found his rifle, although the ammunition was confiscated, and his knife. He didn't find anything else of value, so he continued on.

One guard had gotten behind him and told him to put his hands up in the air. Thirty seconds later, there was a slam of a locker door and a click of a lock. Jeff exited the room.

_What I'd do for a stealthy escape._

* * *

Updated March 23, 2008: Completely cut out the action sequences and wrote a new one. I'll add the old content in after I'm done the story.


	10. Chapter X

Update: Firstly, let me just say… holy shit. This whole thing was fourteen pages on Word. I'll probably cut most of it down now… but I'd never written anything with fourteen since then. Here's to me.

* * *

Running up a couple more flights of stairs, he stopped at a door. It led to (surprise!) another hallway. He peeked out and saw two guards standing in front of an elevator. He thought of an elaborate plan to take them out involving a distraction, darkness, and night vision… but since all he had was the "distraction" part of the plan, he decided to wing it.

He walked forward, and before they could identify him, he kicked one in the shin and threw him to the ground. Jeff darted forward and struck the other in the temple, this one crumpling easily. Jeff stabbed at the elevator call button while the other one tried to stand, until Jeff delivered another kick into his gut, forcing him back against a wall. The elevator dinged. The doors opened to reveal two surprised nurses wheeling a cart carrying a steel tray covered by cloth. Jeff smacked the guard in the side of the head and threw him to the floor of the elevator.

Jeff motioned "down" with a smile, but he noticed the file folder one was carrying had his name on it, neatly labeled "Benson, Jeff – 000". Pausing to throw the cloth aside, he saw surgical instruments and needles placed down neatly. Before he turned to leave, he overturned the tray and flipped the cart to its side.

Glancing around, he saw that he had indeed reached the medical wing.

He saw Dr. Wells standing in front of her office, her arms were crossed and her foot tapped with impatience. She glanced at her watch with an irritated look on her face. Jeff waited until she was looking in the other direction when he strode forward and tapped her on the shoulder. She was about to answer when she caught a look at his face, and he firmly ushered her into the office and shut the door behind him.

"You know, I had something really witty I was going to say to you, but since I'm in a hurry, I'll make it quick. You have something I need," Jeff said, as he nearly towered over the small woman, "and it might take too much time to resort to violence."

Wells didn't even bat an eyelash when she replied, "I don't have it. Dr. Halsey took the cube."

He snorted. "I saw her give it to you. I don't know why, but she did."

"Jeff, listen to me. I don't have anything of yours."

He paused for a moment, then slid his knife out of its sheath and said, "That's too bad, then."

Wells gripped the edge of her desk and took a step back. "You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't do a lot of things, but this isn't one of… those things." He shook his head and told her, "We can keep playing this game, where I get a finger and maybe an ear, or I can go straight for the throat and ransack the place myself until I _do_ find it. And we both know, security in this place isn't what it used to be. So…" He moved forward and reached for her hand.

She recoiled and let out, "Okay! Fine, just take it!" Wells reached into her coat and tossed him the cube. It shimmered in light, and Jeff stared at it like it was a diamond. She could see his eyes light up with anticipation. "I thought this guy set you up anyway."

"He's not the only one who would pay for this kind of information." Jeff stuffed the data cube into a pocket.

"What you have on those files is classified information. That's treason, Jeff."

"Thanks for telling me, Doc. I sure as hell didn't know that when I broke in to steal it." Jeff turned and opened the door to her office. "You wouldn't happen to have directions to the nearest space port, would you?"

Ignoring him, she asked, "Just for the record… would you have killed me over this?"

"I was just messing with you." Jeff smiled warmly. He muttered under his breath as he left, "Sort of." And he turned around and walked out into the hallway with his stun gun held with one hand.

At the other end, two guards suddenly pointed him out and began to weave through the busy lab-coated and scrubbed men and women. Jeff whirled around and pointed the gun in the general direction and squeezed the trigger. The men saw this and dove down, but there was a beep and Jeff read the panel… empty. He looked at the gun and back at the guards who had realised what was up.

He dropped the thing and ran like hell.

Jeff broke into a sprint when he neared the entrance of the damn building. The foyer was furnished like any other corporate office, the architecture was mainly steel and glass. He pushed apart the doors and nearly ran into a group of marines. Three, dressed in combat fatigues.

They turned around when they saw him and charged up their weapons. Jeff's shoes skidded on the pavement and raised his hands with a "Don't shoot!" Heck, it was worth a try. With any luck, it was too dark to identify his looks.

"Jeff?" the one in the back walked to him and told the other two to drop lower their weapons. It was Jen! Hope rose within Jeff once again as he stilled his breath, forcing himself to look relaxed. "What are you doing here, Jeff?"

"I was just leaving." It wasn't a lie.

"State the nature of your business here, sir." One of the marines studied his face.

Jeff looked at him and said, "I sell things."

The marine, looking for more elaboration, opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Jeff. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

The second walked up to Jeff and said, "All right, then. Something's up just inside, so someone told us to watch the doors, sir."

"Funny. Everything seemed just fine to me."

"Okay, you have a good night."

Jen stopped him and stared at him in the eyes. "Are you leaving for good?"

"I am."

"Can I find you? Or is that classified as well?"

"If all goes well, I'll look for you."

When she started to ask him why, one marine snapped his head up from listening on the radio. He stared at Jeff and began to bring up his stun gun. Benson kicked it away, ripped the man's side-arm out of its holster, and pushed him backwards into the hedge. The second marine had wandered off and turned when he heard the commotion.

Jen's eyes were wide, her hands were nearly on her stun gun. "You're the one they're looking for!? They said you were a dangerous criminal!"

"Dangerous what? That's not—" Jeff saw the second marine begin to run back. He leveled the pistol and fired off a round, catching the marine in the kneecap. With a muffled scream, he went headfirst into the concrete ground. He met Jen's stare. "…Okay, yeah. But I was very restrained. This time."

"I trusted you!"

"To be fair, you've known me for a couple days. And," Jeff leaned forward to kiss her on the lips, at the same time holding onto her arms so she wouldn't try to shoot him in the stomach. After they came apart, he said, "you still can trust me, just… because..."

He didn't even finish before he took off, seeing another detail of guards storm into the foyer. Jen raised the gun and squeezed the trigger, but the panel flashed as "deactivated". She growled and tossed the weapon aside heatedly. That bastard fiddled with the gun too.

Jeff scaled a chain-link fence and made his way down a grassy hill while the alarms blared behind him. Nearly out of breath, he finally came to an open field. The only way to get to the other side was through it… presenting himself as a big-ass moving target out in the open for anyone's shooting convenience.

As good a place as any.

Jeff saw lights rise above the forest and the rumble of a ship engine. Behind him, he heard more guards running down the hill and through the trees to catch up to him. He looked back once, then charged straight ahead, waving his arms to attract the attention of the ship, which activated a search light, scanning the ground below. There was a crackle near his head, and he knew they'd started shooting. The ship that began to touch down was a freighter… Jeff cheered inwardly as the grass around him rippled and the ramp began to lower with a whir.

He nearly leaped aboard as the rounds fired pinged off the ship's hull. Jeff grabbed onto a nearby bar once in the safety of the ship, looking back at the darkened landscape. Seeing more flashes, he raised his hand and waved to the men on the ground with a wide grin. Until there was a _crack!_ and he felt his shoulder go numb from a stray stun round.

Jeff rattled off a string of swears and came away from the closing hatch, clutching his wound.

* * *

"Excellent save, Captain," Jeff said, once the ship had cleared atmo and was moving through space. "I'm surprised they didn't take the tracking dot off my rifle."

"I'm surprised they didn't shoot us down," the captain said gruffly. "How's that work, exactly?"

Jeff shrugged, although another member of the crew volunteered a hand. She said, "Heard bits on the same frequency… some higher-up recommended that the military didn't get involved."

"Section III?" another asked. Receiving a nod, he snorted, "ONI bastards."

The captain looked Jeff over and said, "Whatever you're carrying means a lot to Naval Intelligence, boy. Best keep safe."

Jeff nodded with a frown on his face. He didn't want to explain to them that _he_ was the main reason they wouldn't shoot. Must have been Section III behind it all; it takes quite a bit to cook up a scheme like that… and Jeff was just stupid enough to take the bait. He wouldn't make that mistake again. And he'd find whoever came up with the notion of sending him to Reach and kick the _shit_ out of him.

A few days later, the freighter came to a moon which had been more or less colonized. The docks were a popular place for ships, and many corporations had warehouses and manufacturing plants here to increase transportation efficiency. The ship was making a stop to refuel and re-supply at the industrial area of a city, which was by no means a border-town. In many places it was populated by socialites and wealthy citizens.

Jeff wanted to stretch his legs and breathe fresh air, even if the place smelled like exhaust fumes, engine fuel, and cigarette smoke. All around him he heard sounds of machinery whirring, snippets of conversations between dockworkers, and yells from street merchants. Authority was more or less loose in this part, and a few men were seen carrying automatic weapons as they strolled through the docks.

He preferred to be in the cleaner part of the city, but he couldn't be choosy. Not at this time, anyway. Jeff entered a bar and was immediately met with the sounds of some guy warbling into a mike while his band behind him did their thing… flip music. He'd live with that.

Jeff eyed the room. Men sat in groups, talking loudly and laughing—having a good time. A few were deep in a drinking competition, while others occupied themselves with the dart boards or at the billiard tables. Jeff ordered a beer, but didn't drink it. He saw a group of patrons involved in a poker game, and he thought of getting rid of the data cube here and now… make it somebody else's problem. Then he could disappear for good.

But… he decided to hang onto it for now, for all the trouble it might cause him. He found an empty table and sat down to look over the place. Jeff only had a couple of minutes before two suits approached his table.

These men were here to either: peddle him illegal substance or firearms; arrest him; or shoot him. The first option seemed unlikely, and he didn't fancy the other two.

They stood over him, their hands inside their jackets. If they made the slightest movement to draw their concealed weapons, Jeff would spring up and kill them within the span of three seconds. One sat down across from him, as to not arouse suspicion from the others.

"Mr. Benson?"

Jeff shook his head and replied, "He's in the washroom. You can probably catch him if you go in there now."

"You're in possession of highly classified material. Hand it over immediately. Should you attempt to evade arrest or withhold evidence, we are granted permission to use force."

Jeff nodded slowly. "You got that whole thing memorized, huh?"

The man smiled and said, "It would be in your best interest to listen."

Benson pursed his lips and made a noise of mock consideration. He concluded with a solid "No."

"Good. Now that formalities are out of the way, you'll wish you came without a… scene." The man grinned viciously, showing his teeth.

"No chance of getting out of this, then?"

"Probably not."

Jeff glanced behind him, and saw a rather large man with bulging muscles and a crew cut. His perfect distraction… Before the suits could stop him, he whipped the glass bottle in his hand at the big guy's face. Instead of smashing into and enraging him, it exploded upon impact, and he fell out of his chair, landing on the floor with a heavy _thud!_

He lay still.

The suits and Jeff stared at the man for a moment. Jeff made a face and looked back at the man in front of him. He said, "You know, I really thought that would work."

"Me too, actually," the first suit said, bobbing his head a little.

"Yeah, that was a good throw, though," the second added.

"Just so you know, all the exits are covered."

"Mm-hmm. But are they covered _well_?"

The first scrutinized Jeff's face, before he realised that the man in front of him could possibly be insane. His eyes widened and low and pained grunt escaped from his mouth… as Jeff's foot, from under the table, shot right into his groin. He let out a moan and leaned forward, and Jeff stood and shoved the table into his chest.

The second looked like he was deciding whether or not to call for backup or remove his gun and shoot. The hesitation allowed Jeff to grab his chair and throw it with all his strength at the man's head. The guy cursed and held up his hand, easily knocking the airbourne piece of furniture out of its trajectory. But the throw was just there to buy Jeff some time, and he leaped over the table and put the rest of his strength behind a right-handed swing. The suit was propelled backwards and he crashed into another table. Angry yells from patrons erupted.

The man tried to scramble to his feet, but drunken men threw themselves upon him, and at the same time began to take swings at each other. Moments later, the entire place went up with raucous noise and the sounds of fighting. Jeff watched the scene with a self-satisfied grin plastered over his face. He heard heavy footfalls behind him, and turned to see another liquor-soaked man raise a pool cue as he staggered towards him.

Jeff stepped into him quickly, taking advantage of the man's alcohol-weakened reflexes, and punched him in the gut. The drunkard let out a grunt, and for a second Jeff thought the man might vomit all over him. He ripped the pool-cue out of his hands and gave him a push backwards. Landing on the floor, the man let it all out… to Jeff's disgust.

The band had taken cover behind the counter, avoiding thrown obstacles. Jeff inched towards the door, sliding around groups of battling patrons, throwing a couple of kicks in here and there. Through the confusion, he saw three more ONI goons—two men and a woman. They were working their way through the mob, trying to find their mark or help out their friends near the back. Through the glass doors, Jeff spied two more suits running fast to get inside and help.

Keeping low and out of sight from the three, Jeff snuck to the door and stood off to the side. He held the cue in a choke, and brought it back. As the door swished open, Jeff stuck out his right foot. The first guy was still running, and tumbled to the ground with a surprised yell. The next guy stopped to grab at his firearm, but Jeff jumped out into the open and swung his weapon at the goon's pelvic region. The wood splintered as it connected, and Jeff grabbed hold of the doubled-over man and with a few steps' running start, threw him into the fray.

He looked down at tripped-guy, who was starting to rise. Jeff flexed his grip on the broken piece of pool-cue and then threw it at his head, knocking him back down and out. Unfortunately, now he had attracted the attention of the three walking goons, and they began to make their way over to him, hastily pushing their way back through the mob.

Jeff turned and booked it.

He tore through the crowds of people leaving and arriving, the goons in hot pursuit. They wouldn't draw their guns for fear of injuring anyone else, but the winding through the crowd was slowing Jeff down, and he wasn't up for starting another fight. He ducked into an open auto shop. Jeff was about to find a spot to hide, but someone noticed him and called out to him.

"Yo, buddy, front desk isn't in the garage. You need something, dude?" The guy was about twenty, had a frat-boy look to him, complete with the cap and tee. Holding a large wrench in his hand, he began to walk over to him.

"Yeah, first, I need you to shut up for a minute. Second, "Jeff took a step forward and took the wrench out of the kid's hand before he could protest. "I need this. Go stand in the corner until I say you can come back, all right?"

"Hey, I'm twenty-three, prick. I'm way tougher than you are, so don't fu—"

At this point in time, one of the goons wandered into the garage, and Jeff immediately turned on a heel and hurled the metal tool at the intruder's face. The man grunted as the wrench smacked him in the forehead with a solid _thwock! _It hit the concrete ground ringing.

The gun in his jacket fell to the floor as the suit crumpled to the ground, and the frat-dude slowly backed away.

"What do you want, man?" The kid was almost in hysterics. "I'll get you anything."

Jeff looked at the wrench lying next to the man's head and replied, "Something bigger."

The second goon stepped over his downed partner and raised his pistol. Jeff dove forward into a roll, scooped up the fallen gun and fired off three rounds, one hitting the man in the chest and arm. However, Jeff now discovered that these were stun rounds. And these wouldn't subdue a person by themselves.

Fine.

Jeff got back to his feet instantly and smashed the butt of the pistol into the goon's face a few times, tucked in his arm and swung his elbow into the side of his head. Almost immediately, he heard the clicking of a door on the opposite side of the shop. Before the man hit the ground, Jeff had already sprinted over to the other wall.

A hand with a gun was sticking out, hoping to catch Jeff unaware. Too late for that. He gave the heavy door a mighty kick, catching the wrist in between. There was a high-pitched yell and the gun fell out of the woman's hand. Jeff pulled open the door to reveal the last goon, clutching her injured arm with a terrified expression on her face. That ruined it for Jeff, and he wasn't being paid to kill or injure her… so he grabbed the woman by the arm and dragged her to the middle of the shop. Reaching inside her jacket, he found a pair of cuffs, which he used to secure her to the pole underneath the lift suspending a vehicle on top.

Jeff marched to the lift controls and punched a button. The motor began to hum and the car started to slowly descend. The lady shrieked and fought wildly to escape. Jeff halted the thing and stared at her coolly.

"You're from Section III?"

"I… I can't—"

The lift whirred.

"Yes!! Okay!? Yes!"

"Why are you chasing me?"

"Because… Dr. Halsey told us to."

"But _why_?"

"You're in possession of…"—_vmmm_—"What do you want from me?!"

"Somebody told you that reason. I know for a fact that ONI doesn't mess around when classified material is involved. What's with the stun rounds?"

"Please, please just let me go," she begged, her eyes welling with tears.

"I need answers."

"If I tell you, they'll _kill_ me."

"Then it really sucks to be you. While you're still alive now, you might as well tell me, then I at least go away happy, and you get to live a while longer."

In the corner, the frat-boy quickly stood, but Jeff leveled his pistol in his direction and said, "No heroics today, _dude_."

From the woman's jacket, there was a beep from a chatter. Jeff ducked underneath the car and snatched it out of her pocket. It said: _New text message…_

"FREIGHTER 9-HOR SURROUNDED. MOVE IN AND TERMINATE CREW NOW?"

Jeff looked sharply at his captive and asked, "Who the hell are you people?"

Before he could lower the lift one more time, another message came in. "AWAITING REPLY…"

He spied a second car with a sheet of paper on its hood… the car was ready for action. Every vehicle on the roads had electronic activation and certain recognition processes… but every vehicle in the shop also needed to let down its defenses in order to be worked on by a stranger. The mechanic usually received a special bypass from the vehicle's owner.

Jeff was in front of the kid within a second. He pointed and said, "Car. Move. Now."

However, the young mechanic decided to grow a pair only now, and shook his head. "No way, man. I won't do it—"

The chatter beeped again, and Jeff lost what patience he might have had. He struck the kid across the face, and when he was down, Jeff searched all of his pockets until he found a slip of paper with a code written on it.

Jeff sat in the driver's seat and muttered, "Probably could have saved a lot of time if I thought of that earlier." He entered the string of numbers and the engine came to life. He closed the car down and floored the accelerator. He got onto a side road on the direct path back to the docks.

He reached into his pocket and looked at the chatter's vid screen. It read: "TIME IS WASTING. KILL…Y/N?"

With one hand on the wheel, Jeff hit the letter N and added "ABRT."

A reply came back as: "CLEARANCE CODEWORD?"

Jeff bit his lip and gave the car more gas.

* * *

The team leader stood outside the ship's dining area, his men fanned out around the small vessel. Inside the room was the crew backed up against the wall and his men ready to open fire once the word came.

Something must have gone wrong on their end. She wouldn't give the kill order, and now she said to abort mission? He didn't know whether to do it anyway, or get the hell out because the mission had gone south.

He typed into his disposable chatter, "STATE CODEWORD FOR MISSION ABORT."

The device chirped, and he accessed the received message. His eyes widened when he saw it.

It displayed: "F U."

* * *

Jeff spied the freighter and began to steer towards it. There were three men milling around the open hatch, each was armed with sub-machine guns, making no effort to hide them.

No time for fancy plans now. He gunned the engine at the guards, two saw the oncoming vehicle and dove out of the way. The third was less aware, and as a result, had now become something of a hood ornament.

Jeff stomped on the brakes, throwing the limp body to the ground. He unloaded his pistol through the open window, catching a guard as he rose. The man let out an _oof!_ as a round struck him directly in the forehead—instant concussion.

The second guard took hits on his side and leg, causing him to fall back clutching his numb extremity. Jeff exited the car and violently drove the heel of his shoe into the man's face.

Benson grabbed the guard's sidearm, as the man's sub-machine gun had been misplaced and there was no time to look for it now. He removed the magazine and checked its contents—live ammunition. These guys might have been bastards, but at least they were bastards with straight intentions.

He tucked the first pistol, loaded with stun rounds, in his waistband and thumbed the safety off on the second. Jeff made his way up the loading ramp, as quickly as he could quietly and cautiously. Just as he entered the cargo bay, he found himself immediately under fire. He dropped down behind a few steel crates, the bullets pinging harmlessly off of the titanium casing (the crates were vacuum-sealed and used to carry valuable items like munitions and other unmentionables).

Jeff was at a crouch, the odd round whizzing over his head. There were at least four men scattered around the roomy bay, taking up better firing positions than his. He heard the words "flank" and "suppress" and knew it was time to go. Screw caution.

Before the suppressive fire and during the flanking, Jeff sprung up at put himself in a hard sprint straight towards a man who was busy looking for the next piece of cover. He didn't even have time to get a good grip on his weapon before Jeff tackled him to the ground, smashing the back of his head against a steel beam. Gunfire rattled for a moment then ceased, acknowledging Jeff was safe at second base.

Stealing a glance at his latest victim, blood had started to ooze out of the wound and the man had a dazed look on his face. Jeff picked him up and got him into a headlock, using his body as a makeshift shield. He popped out and surveyed the situation in less than a second, using the mercenaries' hesitation to his advantage. Without any more thought, Jeff snapped off five rounds, some more accurate than others, but all managing to render his opposition useless.

Around him, mercenaries lay on the blood-spattered deck, some with the red stuff leaking from holes punched through their heads, others were writhing on the ground, unwilling to keep shooting. He threw down his meat shield and kicked away any weaponry close to the wounded men, pausing to switch out his spent magazine. With a final visual sweep around the cargo bay, he proceeded deeper into the ship.

As soon as he heard voices flowing down the narrow corridor, he darted off to one side with his grip tightening on his weapon. The voices were quick whispers coming from the crew quarters. Jeff heard a man give a harsh order to a captive, and he knew he had reached his destination.

He peeked into the open doorway, seeing that three guards had their guns trained on the small crew. But the guards had made two mistakes if they wanted to get the job done properly: they themselves were facing the wrong way, and so were their hostages…

With only nervous glances back to the doorway, the executioners were more concerned about doing their main job than looking for an intruder. Jeff made eye contact with the captain of the vessel, and the man played it off well, making no movement that suggested Jeff was ever present. Benson gave him a nod, and stepped out into the open with a loud clump of his shoes. All three men turned around and fired at the empty doorway.

Inside the quarters, three members of the crew burst into action behind the armed men. The captain threw the chain of his cuffs over the neck of one guard, causing him to stiffen and panic, dropping his SMG. His eyes bulged and his hands grabbed at his throat. The second crewmember, hired muscle, unleashed a heavy kick at the back of the second guard's knee with almost enough force to "kneecap" the man. As he lost his balance, the crew's muscle grabbed his head, and pulled him backwards, at the same time twisting his whole body to look at the deck when he went face-first into it, breaking his nose and knocking him out.

The third, the engineer of the freighter, dropped his shoulder and rammed into the back of last guard. The gunman was thrust forward, but remained standing and momentarily forgot about shooting Jeff, whirling to face his assailant. His finger squeezed down on the trigger, sending a hail of rounds around the room. The engineer gasped as he was hit in the shoulder from a stray bullet. He staggered back as the guard brought up his weapon with two hands.

The guard was about to hose down the crew, when he felt the muzzle of a pistol on the back of his head. Before he could try anything, the front of his skull exploded, showering the ceiling with blood and bits of brain. The body slumped down, and Jeff lowered his smoking pistol.

The captain jerked his cuffed wrists, resulting in an audible snap and the final guard went limp. He separated his arms and let the man drop to the deck plates while Jeff searched the guards for a key. He tossed it to the captain, and the man set about unlocking himself and his crew.

He said to Jeff, "They're looking for you, boy. You want to explain that to me?"

"I don't. But I'll probably have to," Jeff replied, picking up the discarded submachine gun.

"Bingo."

"It'll have to wait," Jeff said. "These people aren't messing around here."

"I don't doubt that."

"Which means, in a couple of minutes, your ship is going to be crawling with more of the same." Jeff nudged a body. "How fast can you get us up?"

"They mucked with the engine in case something like _this_ happened."

"Then how fast can your people make repairs?"

"It depends on the damage done."

Jeff took a step forward, noting the subtle shift in captain's stance. With a dark look on his face, he said, "Don't know if you realised, but I didn't mean to bring this down on you and yours."

"But you did."

"But I did. And if you don't plan on going out with a bang today, Captain, I suggest we hurry and find out."

The captain looked at his engineer, who was being patched up by another crewmember. The man gave him a thumbs-up, and said, "Just get me down to the engine room."

"Fine. Logan, help him down, then join up with the rest of us." The man nodded and knelt to lift his injured friend. As they left, to the rest of his crew he said, "Arm up and shoot anyone who tries to get in." When Jeff turned to head back to the cargo bay, he told him, "There's one more guy. Left his flunkies here when he got a call. He could be on the docks runnin' away right now, or hiding out in the hold. But I don't wanna come across him when we're in flying high, in the middle of dead space. Let me defend my own ship."

Jeff nodded, and following a second of hesitation, tossed the captain the sub-machine gun. The two brushed each other as they passed in different directions. Benson checked his pistol and silently moved down the corridor, making sweeps through each room. He heard gunfire from another part of the ship… whoever they were, they didn't want Jeff leaving.

He approached the cockpit. As he passed through the doorway, a large figure swung from the ceiling and kicked Jeff's pistol out of his hands. Pain lanced through his arm, as he staggered back and tried to see where his gun had landed. The man was dressed in a dark spec-ops-looking get up, Kevlar vest and tactical assault rifle included.

Jeff took a step forward for a swing, but his opponent snapped off a powerful sidekick, knocking him back against the wall. The man brought up his rifle, tucking in his elbow and staring down the sight. Benson ducked out of the cockpit as the man fired off a sustained burst down the corridor.

The man moved with efficiency and precision, like a trained commando. He was either military, or something else. A mercenary? Both answers didn't help him out; many mercs were ex-soldiers or just had a background with firearms and violence. But why would he be chasing him one minute, then trying to kill him the next?

There wasn't any time to finish the thought, when the man marched forward looking for his kill. Commandos usually worked in teams, covering doors and exits with fancy maneuvers. Going through an entrance without making sure it was safe first was risky… not something Jeff expected him to do. Jeff lunged forward and grabbed at the barrel, shoving the rifle away from him.

They fumbled with the weapon between the two of them, until Jeff ripped out the magazine and ejected the round in the chamber, making the gun nothing more than a bludgeoning object. Jeff threw the ammunition in his hand at the guy's head. He grinned and unclipped the assault rifle from his vest and leaped forward into Jeff, and they crashed to the ground.

Jeff hit his head on the deck, causing stars to dance across his vision. His attacker put two hard punches into Jeff's eye, until the man was thrown off by a good hard kick. They got to their feet. Benson threw a fist forward, which was knocked aside and Jeff received another blow to the face. Fighting through the pain, he grabbed both of the man's ears and squeezed his temples, then tried to swing him into the wall.

But the man spun on his heel and instead managed to smash _Jeff_'s head into the wall. Ducking to avoid a face-shattering punch, Jeff shot forward and put his forehead into the underside of the man's jaw, hearing the cracking of teeth. As he recoiled, Jeff swung and caught the man's ear, splitting the skin. He threw a left-handed punch at Jeff, but it was easily avoided. Jeff grabbed his wrist and drove his open palm into the man's elbow, the force causing a _crack!_ and bending it unnaturally.

The man grunted, and stomped on Jeff's toes with the heel of his boot, making him double over just a little, then stiffened his good arm and nailed him in the cheek. Jeff twisted from the blow and went down. Looking at his adversary, the man bared a bloody, toothless grin, and pulled out a seven inch combat knife from his boot.

Jeff fought to keep the knife from plunging into his body, straining to turn the blade outwards. The man drove him up against the wall with a growl, blood gurgling out of his mouth and nose.

He flipped the blade and pulled it back to thrust into his opponent, but Jeff whipped out the pistol he'd had in his back pocket, and fired two rounds at point blank at the man's chest and throat. If the stun rounds didn't stop his heart, they sure as hell winded him.

Jeff stepped forward into the man and in one quick move, wrenched the knife free, flipped it, and rammed it into his body. However, the man managed to turn, and the blade sank into the man's side. Jeff didn't have another chance, as he was hastily kicked away.

The commando tore the knife from his side with a pained howl, but turned to run down the corridor, his broken arm dangling as he took quick strides. Jeff shakily got to his feet and began to chase him down. He rounded a corner, and the man suddenly jumped at him. His knife slid into Jeff's shoulder, then punched him in the chest. He sank to the ground, gasping for breath. But Jeff snapped off a stiff-fingered jab, managing to catch him in his injured side. His fingers came away with blood. The man had recoiled from the blow and had resumed fleeing. He stopped at a ladder, cast a look at Jeff, then climbed up out of the hatch.

"Jeff?!" The captain came running, clutching his smoking pistol. He knelt next to him, looking at his injuries. He yelled for one of his crew, then asked, "You found him?"

"Yeah," he said, exhausted.

"Is he gone?"

Motioning to the ladder, he asked, "Is that a way out?"

The captain nodded. Jeff said, "Then he's off your ship."

"Good. We're leaving, anyhow."

The freighter rumbled, its bulky form lifting from the hold of gravity. After a period of creaking and rattling, it finally broke atmo and was drifting free.

The captain stood behind the female crewmember serving as medic, while she performed basic first aid. Her hand fell over the hilt of the knife still buried in his flesh.

"This needs to come out." She bent to get Jeff on his feet. To the captain, she said, "Help me get him down to the infirmary."

While the three stumbled down the blood-stained corridor, the captain asked Jeff, "You need anything?"

He replied with a grin. "Painkillers."

* * *

Vlad raggedly stalked through the alleyways, clutching his broken arm and bloody side. He was trying to keep out of sight from the main populace, even though street violence was not uncommon around this part of the city. Up ahead on a side street, a black four-door car pulled up in front of him. His employers.

A tinted window rolled down, revealing a dark-haired man with a slight beard just around his mouth and grey suit. The man said with a scowl, "The Doctor isn't happy, Vlad. You were given strict instructions, but you engaged and fought with Mr. Benson. What the hell were you thinking?"

"The man was trying to kill me," Vlad replied coolly. "What is so important about him?"

"We need a man who does what he's told without asking questions. Since you are unable to do either…you are relieved of your duties, effective immediately."

"You're firing me? What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

The man put on a pair of shades and faced him. He said, "Don't run."

The front passenger's window rolled down a bit. Vlad saw the muzzle of a silencer poke out, but he didn't have time to turn and escape. There were two coughs, and the bullets drilled into his forehead and heart without exiting the body. Vlad dropped to the ground with a shocked expression on his face.

Two men exited, picked up the body, and dropped him into the plastic-lined trunk. They returned to their seats, and the car drove away.

* * *

Notes: Chapter finished July 30, 2008… lost interest so many times, but I'm confident I'll be done before the end of summer.

This chapter is actually longer than the original one, which I thought would be pretty hard to top, at sixteen pages (spaced in-between every paragraph).

I think this brings out more of a "conspiracy" plot that I'm trying to bring up in the sequel and hopefully by the end of this.


	11. Chapter XI

Andrew Holt entered the crew dining area and found his passenger making himself a pot of coffee. He crossed his arms and said, "It's as good a time as any for stories. If you've got some great tales of bravery, dragons, and princesses, I'm all ears."

Jeff reached for a spare cup and asked, "You want in on this? Heard your supplies are dwindling, Captain."

"_This_ would be the part where I use physical violence to get my point across. But it looks like there's not much for me to do," Holt said.

Jeff bared his teeth in a humourless chuckle, but winced at the movement of his shoulder. Holt continued, "I'm not a bastard, so let's just pretend I'm pumping you for information."

Jeff set two cups down on the table and took a seat. Holt sat across from him and accepted the drink.

"There's no way out of this, I take it?"

"I used to have a no-questions asked policy on my ship. But after being held hostage by a death squad, I've changed the rules a bit. I'm unreasonable like that."

"Would seem so."

Holt raised the steaming cup to his lips and said, "I could have dumped you in the airlock, made you take a walk in space. But something tells me I can't just get away. I figure I'm in too deep in whatever you've brought down on yourself. So me—and my crew—are in it for the long haul. Just want to know what we're getting ourselves into."

"To be honest, I can't be sure of it myself. But…"

Jeff started from the call, when he was first drawn into whatever this was. He went through the infiltration of and escape from Reach, the data drawn from the SPARTAN-II program, up until the point he was at now. Jeff selectively left out the Spartan training bits of the story, as well as the conclusions he might have come to. He didn't need to give the captain more reason to doubt him.

"So, you have no idea why these people are after you?" Holt asked, both elbows on the edge of the table.

"Not exactly. I have no idea why these people are after _you_. I expect they'll be wanting their top secret plans for world domination back in the vault. But why take you out?"

"That's gold you're carrying, Jeff. You play your cards right, you can close up shop and retire." Holt ran his tongue over his front teeth absentmindedly. He explained, "Only desperate men demand a price. If you've got contacts, it becomes a business. You know there are people who would kill for some of that information on that cube. You sell it to a third party, who will distribute what they want to individuals. You collect the cash and the commission as per an agreement you'll strike early on. If your middlemen know what they're doing, they'll try to stretch out profit as much as they can, while you reap the rewards."

"And if you don't have the balls to blackmail ONI, it's the safer solution when you set up a network of accounts and dead-ends," Jeff finished. "Unless they've got trillion dollar AIs working to put you behind bars."

"Rebels," Holt said, "would love to see the collapse of government. It just so happens in a war that information tends to leak. Once you're satisfied with a job well done, you shut it down and sever all connections that lead back to you. Chances are, the rebels will burn at the might of the UNSC, depending on the reaction, and all the while you walk to the bank, fatter and richer than ever before."

"You know, for an honest cargo-runner, you sure know a lot about crime and Rebel interests," Jeff said with a small smile.

"Travel to all four corners of the galaxy, you pick up things here and there."

Jeff chuckled, his gaze drifting around the room. "In this bucket? I doubt that."

"Didn't always fly a freighter," Holt mumbled, but Jeff caught it. Before he could ask him, the man downed his coffee and stood. "Hope what you've done doesn't catch up with us anytime soon. But it occurred to me that you might know more about what's going on than you let on. Might be safer for the all of us if we stick together. I could be signing our death warrants having you around… however, you _can_ handle yourself in a fight. You're street-smart, and that doesn't come to everyone naturally. You might just be the sort of person I need alongside me."

Jeff chewed on his bottom lip, nodding. He told him, "That might have to come to pass, Captain. But we'll have to see what happens from here on out."

"Just hope for no surprises," Holt said. "We'll be hitting atmo in about half an hour. Gotta make a drop and get paid today. You can come with us, stretch your legs. Grab a gun from Logan and meet me down by the ramp once the ship starts rattling."

"We're going to be armed?"

"It's mostly for show. Only the corporate fat-asses choose the fancy places with high-tech security. Holt hovered by the doorway and said, "These guys look to be amateurs, so they won't try anything if they see we've got bigger guns than them."

Jeff raised the cup to his lips. "Makes sense."

* * *

Almost forty minutes later, Holt strolled through the streets of Scatterwind, on the moon Elsley. He was flanked by Jeff and Logan, each armed with weaponry. Logan carried a compact assault rifle, while Jeff settled for a sub-machine gun. His aching arms didn't feel like carrying much weight. And if something were to go wrong, they'll always shoot at the guy with the biggest gun. At least, Jeff did.

Elsley was a run-down little colony with just enough people on it to keep the place working. But the citizens had no great hurry to make themselves known. In reality, this quaint little mining colony was just a front for arms manufacturers to create their goods and dealers to peddle their wares without suspicion. Hell, even the authorities were in for a cut of everything coming in and going out.

Naturally, it made for a good place to get rid of old jobs and find more work. So here they were.

They made their way into a large rusted warehouse, their supposed meeting spot. Around them, robotics and machinery hummed and buzzed, the noise grinding together. Jeff averted his eyes from the blinding flash of sparks and glow of heated metal. The heavy stench of burnt material hung in the air.

The warehouse was quite large. Enough for production and storage at least, all in the same bay. Catwalks were suspended overhead, crisscrossing over the entire operation below. Logan walked up to a nearby bin with a number stenciled onto the side and took a look inside.

Jeff glanced over at the man, who reached in and pulled out a handful of bullets. He tossed them back into the pile one at a time, their metallic casing clinking as they hit each other. Logan turned the last one over in his hand and grinned.

"Fifty cal," he said with admiration. "Somebody plans on fighting a war."

"They plan on buying in bulk?" Jeff quipped. He glanced over at the far end of the warehouse. "Machine guns and rifles?"

Logan looked around. "Makes you wonder why this place ain't got better security. We waltzed in here, why couldn't some other… bad… people...?"

"That's because I invited you here."

Holt turned around to face the voice. Jeff and Logan stopped what they were doing and let their hands wander to their guns.

From inside the dark warehouse, the light from the door nearly blinded them. One man walked forward, dressed in a cheap suit, wearing square rimmed tinted glasses. Four men behind him slipped into the warehouse silently looking over Holt's shoulder. Each was armed with weapons ranging from pistols to assault rifles.

"You run this operation?" Holt asked, looking around at the machinery.

"It pays the bills," the man said with a shrug.

"Would assume it does... nice place." Holt's gaze snapped back, searching to see the man's eyes behind their lenses. "We did the job, Verne. Cargo's already unloaded at the place, so that just leaves the matter of payment. I hope that wasn't too much to handle on your end."

One of Verne's men whispered something into his boss's ear and walked off. After a quick moment, Verne said, "Actually, I ran into a spot of trouble. _Indecision_, is the word." He raised his hand and whistled.

From above on the catwalks, the sounds of guns cocking flew around the warehouse. Jeff and Logan whirled around to see the shapes of men, underneath the glow of hanging lights, aiming their weaponry at the encircled trio. Holt quickly drew a pistol, while Verne removed his own piece and held it loosely in front of him.

"Verne…?"

"Now, I hadda choice to make. Didn't present itself 'til a few minutes ago, but this is how I'm gonna play it. Guy you're travelling with…"—Verne's gun drifted to Jeff— "You know anything about him?"

"I honestly didn't ask," Holt replied, straight-faced. "If I had to guess—"

"A wanted man." Verne interjected.

Holt glanced at Jeff. "Huh. That's new."

"You can stay here and I have my men kill you, or you walk away with your lives," Verne said. "Either way, the man stays with me and I leave without issue."

"_Nobody_ is going anywhere!" Everyone turned to see one of his men training his pistol at the back of Verne's head. Immediately, every gun in the warehouse was trained on different targets. Holt lifted his own gun and leveled it at Verne's heart.

"You're under arrest for assisting known Insurrectionists, illicit arms manufacturing and dealing, smuggling, and a whole list of other shit ONI's got on you, buddy."

Holt spoke up. "We're not with them. If we could just show ourselves out…"

"I said _don't_ _move!_" the man screamed. He whipped out a second handgun and shoved it in Holt's face. He froze and held up both hands dangling his pistol by its trigger guard on a finger. The man said, "Don't think your hands are clean of this. I'd like to see what you've been smuggling in and outta here, Captain Holt. As far as I'm concerned, everybody here's an Innie!"

"Well, Verne, you piece of shit, looks like your little plan backfired on you," Holt growled.

"What the fuck is this!? I made a _deal_ with ONI! I have backup on the way, you motherfu—"

"You keep telling yourself that," the agent said with a sneer. "Whoever's on the way, they're coming to take you in first and foremost. Then we'll see about your boys here."

"Not me! _He's_ the one you want!" Verne shouted, his pistol violently thrusting at Jeff. "They told me they'd be ready to take him in once I'd gotten ahold of him!"

"Guess they tricked you. All I know is that there are some goddamned insurrectionists to take care of."

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "You really don't know who I am?"

"Should I? You wanna ride with this son of a bitch in the backseat too?"

Holt and Jeff shot each other looks. The agent was beginning to sweat. He brushed his temple with the collar of his shirt, soaking the fabric. He clearly wasn't used to having twenty or so guns all pointed in his direction, with his reinforcements nowhere in sight.

Verne was getting restless, his hand growing tired from constantly holding his gun up. "You can't take on all of us, you realise."

"Shut up!"

"If you were serious about this arrest, cops would be pouring already. Be smart, walk away while you still live."

"I said, _shut_ _the_ fuck _up!_" Jeff saw the bead of sweat begin to trickle down his jaw. He tilted his head again, but Verne chose this time to strike.

The gangster whirled around, knocking the agent's arm aside, trying to make a grab for the gun. Panicking, the man fired off his second pistol. Jeff quickly moved in front of Holt, and let out a yell as the bullet struck his shoulder. Holt brushed past Jeff and fired three rounds into the bewildered ONI agent. The sound of sirens blared as a file of cruisers pulled into the lot outside the warehouse. Officers jumped out and began to fan out around outside.

Over a loudspeaker, someone droned: _"Everyone put down your weapons and come out with your hands behind your heads! Everyone put down…"_

Verne threw the agent's body aside, and before he could order his men into action, the darkened windows of the warehouse exploded inwards. There was a burst of gunfire overhead followed by the clangs and clumps from dozens of pairs of boots hitting metal.

Holt grabbed Jeff by his good arm and pulled him behind a stack of storage crates. There was more gunfire, as Verne's men recovered from their initial shock and began to open up on the newcomers... men dressed in dark fatigues and kevlar, their faces shielded by helmets, balaclava and even gas masks, rappelling down ropes hooked up to the roof. Half of Verne's men positioned on the catwalks were already cut down by the time they could fire back. But two black suited figures took hits and slumped over, dangling in mid-air, still tethered to their lines. A third let out a scream and lost his grip, falling to the ground below with a pulpy _crack!_ as his knees gave out. The blood pooled around his body, leaking out of the bullet holes in his uniform.

"Does Elsley even have special forces!?" Logan asked from behind another crate. Rounds pinged off the metal.

"No insignias," Holt replied. "Whoever these guys are, they aren't operating under any protocols I've seen."

Jeff removed a hand from his shoulder, gritting his teeth. "We need to get out of here. Now."

"Thanks for your input, Jeff," Holt said, risking a quick glance over his shoulder. The commandos had taken up positions and were firing away at the warehouse workers while the police officers had moved up to the doors and were engaged with the men on ground level.

"Verne and an angry mob are waiting at that exit… there a backdoor to this place?"

"Loading bay area. It's about two sections over from this one. 'Cept the door there is locked," Holt said, motioning to a large steel sliding door. "Controls are in the main office… up there."

Jeff grimaced. "Then that's where I'm headed."

"I'm coming with…"

"No. You and Logan stay here, and as soon as you see those doors part, you make straight for them. I'll cover you."

Holt shook his head. "With what? You don't even have your gun on you."

Jeff looked around and saw that he had indeed dropped the thing when he was hit. He saw it lying in the middle of the floor, in no-man's land. His eyes went to the ceiling and the commandos.

"I'll get creative."

* * *

Verne saw Jeff stand up and ran towards the stairs. He leveled pistol and fired off half his magazine at the man and nearly stood to give chase, but dropped down after feeling a hail of bullets whizz overhead. "Fuck! Fuck!"

Jeff's shoes skidded on the cement as he rounded a bend and charged up the steps, the sound of rubber on metal banging in his ears. One worker was preoccupied, firing off his assault rifle at a group of commandos. He never saw Jeff come up alongside him. He grabbed the man's weapon, yanked down the barrel, and with arms outstretched, shoved the man over the rail. He fell screaming, his finger locked on the trigger, emptying the magazine all the way down.

A second man, crouched behind a box, now stood up, eyes wide. As he swung his rifle in Jeff's direction, Jeff ripped the sidearm out of the man's holster and smashed its butt into the man's temple, dropping him instantly. Across the catwalk, the commandos now ventured forward. One raised a shotgun and let loose as Jeff somersaulted behind the crate. The automatic shotgun loosed seven shots in rapid succession, its pellets scattering all over the catwalk, denting the metal. The commando switched out magazines, but not before Jeff sprung out and put two rounds in the man's leg.

Jeff sprinted forward and shoved the barrel of the shotgun away from him as the man squeezed the trigger. His right fist shot upwards into the underside of the man's jaw, and he felt teeth shatter. The weapon's strap was caught on the commando's shoulder, so Jeff whirled him around and proceeded down the catwalk with a body shield and shotgun in hand.

Four commandos came out of cover, their compact assault rifles blazing. Jeff's captive gurgled and went limp as the rounds drilled into the kevlar, but Jeff raised the shotgun and hosed down the entire area with metal, shredding through the commandos. Three men flew backwards and landed in a heap, their fatigues riddled with holes.

The fourth fumbled with a magazine, stumbling to get away. Jeff dropped the body and ran at the last guy. He knocked the ammunition out of his hand, the individual bullets clattering on the catwalk. Jeff's foot smashed into the side of the man's kneecap, and as he toppled over, he grabbed the commando by the arm and swung his head into the rail, shattering the helmet's visor. The commando dropped to his knees, blood dribbling through the cracks in the helmet.

Around the warehouse, the firefight continued. Everyone else was too busy to pay attention to Jeff, so he made his way into the foreman's office, a room overlooking the storage and operation below. He ran through the controls, stopping at the switch appropriately labeled "Bay 2 Door Control". Jeff peeked out the window and saw Logan and Holt run through the open doors.

As he straightened his back and started after them, there was a sharp, splitting pain in the back of his head, which exploded in his forehead. Jeff fell, face first into the floor.

"Surprise, you _motherfucker_!"

Verne stood over him, a fire extinguisher in his hand. Jeff tried to crawl, but Verne kicked him in his side, laying him out on his back. The man threw aside the red tank and leaned over Jeff, grabbing him by his collar. He cocked his pistol and pressed the barrel between Jeff's eyes.

"Who are you, huh? What the hell makes you so fuckin' important? I got a shitload of a trouble dumped right on my doorstep because of you, and I just want to know _why_."

"Because the people you're dealing with don't give a damn about you," Jeff mumbled.

"And they care about you?"

"Too much."

"You know them? Who the hell are they?"

"I only got a hunch, but if I'm right, you're better off staying very far away. You let me go, you disappear, and…"

Verne struck Jeff across the face with his free hand. "You're tryin' to set me up again! I won't burn 'cause of you, y'hear? Get up. We'll see if they'll keep their end in a few minutes. Some people here wanna meet you. "

"They're here? Right now?" Jeff's throat tightened. "Listen, Verne…"

"Stop talking!" Verne brought back his pistol to bring it down on Jeff's head, but Jeff saw the movement and swept the gun out of Verne's hands. The man let out a yell and tackled Jeff in the midsection. Within seconds, both men were on the ground.

Verne laid punch after punch into Jeff's wounded arm, causing him to lose his grip as the world spun and pain shot through his body. Jeff's hand wrapped itself around Verne's jaw, squeezing until the man howled and grabbed at his arm. Jeff pushed him off and scrambled to his feet. Verne scrambled around, looking for his gun. He charged at Jeff once more, but Jeff snatched up the fire extinguisher and sprayed down Verne in mid-step. The man spluttered, backing off once more. He disappeared behind a door, Jeff following after discarding the extinguisher.

Jeff came to a platform of bins filled with junk, bits and pieces of metal. He walked forward, when a steel rod met his face. He fell to the ground again, with a loud grunt. Verne lunged forward, bringing the rod down, narrowly missing Jeff's head. Jeff kicked upward, into Verne's gut. Jeff knocked aside the rod, and clumsily got away from the man as he recovered. His hand reached into a bin, his fingers closed around a rusty chain which he whipped out in front of him. Verne swung the rod downwards, which Jeff blocked with the chain. He wrapped the chain around it and pulled it out from Verne's grasp, tugging him along with it.

Jeff threw one end of the chain over Verne's head and pulled the ends apart, strangling his attacker. Verne make frantic choking noises, while reaching into his jacket. There was a searing twinge in his side, and Jeff dropped the chains, falling away with a surprised cry. Verne clutched his throat, his hair looking damp and tousled, his hand coming away with a bloody knife.

"Ruin my business, huh? I don't give a damn about any of the money anymore. I just want to see you dead." Verne stepped in for the kill, but Jeff had found a sharp, flat piece of metal, and swung it sideways. The makeshift blade cleaved into Verne's wrist nearly severing the joint, and the knife fell to the ground.

"_Fuck!_" Verne screamed, recoiling violently, blood running down his limp hand.

Jeff got him into a head lock, when he suddenly stopped. Verne still moaning. Across the catwalk was a seven foot monster staring at him. Instead of eyes, a shiny reflective plate showed Jeff's surprised expression. Jeff was frozen, as it started towards him.

Verne whispered, "Burn in hell, you f—"

That was as far as he got. Jeff threw him forward as he began to run backwards. Verne stumbled, still upright. But the Spartan had already broken into a full run, and wasn't going to stop for anything. An armoured gauntlet flew out and smashed into Verne's jaw, snapping his head into an unnatural position, while the Spartan ran past his body before it hit the floor.

Jeff scrambled up a flight of stairs, his heart pounding in his ears. He could hear the quick booms of footsteps behind him and the rattling of the catwalk beneath him. He leapt onto a ladder and climbed up. He felt the rungs begin to shake and move, and with a yell, he jumped onto the ledge before the entire ladder was ripped off of the side of the wall, resulting in flying bolts and screeching metal.

He didn't look back as he took off down another passage, and jumped onto a narrow beam positioned high above the floor of the warehouse. He was about halfway before he felt the beam vibrate. Jeff shot a look back and to his horror, he saw the Spartan bring a fist up then brought it down on the beam, the bolts giving away and the metal fracturing.

Jeff swore as he ran down its length. He felt the beam snap, and his stomach lurched, as he knew he was in free fall. With a yell, he pushed off the beam and dove headfirst onto a catwalk, in the middle of a group of commandos.

He ran his palm into one's nose-area, crushing the soft cartilage. He whipped out his hand, catching another commando in the jaw behind him. Jeff stepped forward and yanked the man's helmet over his eyes and got around behind him, while the man seized up and fired erratically down the catwalk, catching two of his own.

Jeff yanked the sub-machine gun away from him, while he clawed at his helmet. He stomped on the back of the man's shin, forcing him to his knees, and rammed the stock of the SMG into the back of his head. Flipping the gun around, he got to a knee and fired a couple of bursts at another group of commandos.

"Jeff!"

He looked down below and saw Holt waving at him, motioning to the Loading Bay door. Jeff nodded and ran to the next switch. Sparks flew when he pulled down on the lever, but the door rolled open.

Holt began to wave Logan through but he shuddered as he took a hit and suddenly collapsed. Jeff could see him dragging himself on the ground, while Logan grabbed him by the arm, under a hail of fire. The commandos, seeing he was wounded, started to move in for the kill.

Jeff climbed over the edge of the catwalk, and after a moment of hesitation, flung himself at the group below. He landed two men, instantly snapping their spines from the impact. The rest of the commandos turned to him, incredulous. Too shocked to fire.

Logan emptied the rest of his magazine, gunning down four men, and Jeff exploded into action. He swept the commandos off their feet, and fired into each man with his SMG until it clicked empty.

Logan put Holt's arm around his neck and the two made for the waiting freighter, already fired up and ready to go. Jeff threw aside the empty weapon and started to follow them, until there was a blur of motion and he felt himself soar through the air. He landed in a stack of oil drums, bones broken.

He coughed up blood, but crawled to the nearest body and picked up a discarded handgun. The commandos were following the wounded Holt back to his ship, firing at the _Ninth_ _Horton_. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a commando unpack a rocket launcher and was nearing the door. Jeff shakily got to his feet once again and shot the man, hitting him in the leg and chest. He slammed into him, pushing the commando up against the wall and putting a round into the man's neck. He turned around and killed each man pursuing his friends, but this time, he saw the Spartan run straight towards him while he braced for impact.

It was the equivalent of being run down by a train and living, or what Jeff had once imagined that felt like. He tried to get up, but the Spartan descended upon him. A hand shot to his throat with only enough force to keep him pinned to the ground.

With his free hand, Jeff continued to shoot the commandos, who were surrounding the _Horton_, while he saw Holt at the edge of the ramp fighting off the men and staring at him hopelessly. Jeff yelled for him to leave, when the Spartan forcefully brought a hand down on his arm to stop him from shooting any more, pulverizing the bones in his wrist.

Jeff was blinded by pain. He screamed, but choked on his blood.

"_Stop fighting, Jeff. It's going to be all right."_

He couldn't tell if it was the Spartan or his subconscious that spoke to him. He couldn't struggle even if he wanted to anymore. Jeff watched as the _Horton_ ascended into the sky and zoomed out of sight. He passed out from pain and exhaustion.

* * *

Jeff's eyes shot open. His head felt heavy, as he lifted it to look around. He was seated in the back of a pelican, his wounds more or less treated with basic first aid. The Spartan climbed aboard the pelican and sat across from him.

He whispered, looking away, "Just kill me. Get it over with."

The Spartan removed its helmet, revealing the face of a woman in her twenties. Her hair was sort of a dirty blonde, her features sharp and defined. She smiled warmly, a sharp contrast to the cold, ruthless killer he had seen earlier.

"I don't need to kill you, Jeff," she said. "I don't want to kill you."

"Could've fooled me," he said, lifting his arm weakly.

"It's for your own good. You'll see." The woman took a seat beside Jeff and produced a hypodermic needle. "This'll help you sleep. Relax, Jeff. You're in good hands now. Really."

* * *

"Did you contact the station and tell them the situation is under control?" the Spartan asked a police officer.

The man shook his head. "I can do it right now if you'd like, Ma'am."

"Is this everyone who was called in today?" She looked at the rest of the officers, who milled around their cruisers. "Did anybody leave?"

"No Ma'am. Elsley's best are here 'til the job's done."

The Spartan flashed him a smile. "Fantastic. Round up everyone so we can start dealing with these innies."

The rebels had been tied up and sat down against the wall of the warehouse, while the officers filed in. The Spartan surveyed the warehouse, and brushed past a commando. He caught her eye, and she gave him a slight nod.

She exited the warehouse and pulled the doors shut, but the sounds of gunfire and yells followed her out.

* * *

February 01/09 – Delayed again. This was completely written from ground up, and the following chapters 12 and 13 will too. But I have an idea of what is going to happen, so hopefully I can get those done this weekend.


	12. Chapter XII

"_Your name is Jeffrey Benson. You remember that, don't you?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Do you remember the last thing happened?"_

"_I was wounded during a mission."_

"_Against the Covenant. Plasma wounds up and down your body, nearly killing you."_

"_Must have been some fight."_

"_Of course. We managed to patch you up, but remember, you can only take so much damage."_

"_Then it's good I'm a Spartan."_

"_Jeff?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Jeff! Are you there?"_

Jeff blinked once and checked his watch. Sighting through his telescopic lens, he said, "Go."

"_I just learned that Steiner is about to leave for a meeting in two minutes."_

"Damn. Do you know where he's exiting?"

"_Negative. I'm going to try something, but you need to be quick."_

"Where are you?"

"_Coming down the hall past the employee offices."_

"Okay, I got you." Jeff slid a magazine into his rifle and checked to make sure everything was functioning okay for the last time. He continued to track the woman dressed in sophisticated business attire, tracking her through the office windows. She strode down the corridor on a dead path towards the CEO's office. "That's risky."

She tucked a few strands of dark hair behind an ear and paused at a window for a moment, then slowly undid the first three buttons of her shirt.

"…and _extremely_ sexy."

"_Jeff…"_ She turned to look straight at him, glaring at his position directly across the street, ten floors up in a hotel room.

He cleared his throat and moved the cross hair over to the designated office window. "So, Steiner."

On the other end, Jeff heard snippets of the conversation.

"_Mr. Steiner's office. How may I help you?"_

"_I need to see him right away."_

"_I'm sorry, he was just leaving. If you could…"_

"_Is he in his office now?"_

"_Yes, but— Miss? You can't go in there… Miss!"_

"_Excuse me, Mr. Steiner?"_

"_I tried stopping her…"_

"_It's fine. You are...?"_

"_Jane Morgan, representative of OmniTek Corporation. The board is squabbling over funding for a new project we're undertaking, and your name came up more than once, Mr. Steiner. OmniTek would like to enter an agreement with you."_

"_Of course. I'll see what I can do."_

"_Mr. Steiner, you have a meeting at 1:35."_

"_They can wait. This is my company after all. Here, come inside my office. Jean, would you please shut the door on your way out? Thank you."_

The man walked into view, motioning for Morgan to sit. She strolled around him and pulled open the window with an exaggerated flick of her hair in the breeze.

"_I'm sorry, Mr. Steiner. I hope you don't mind. I was feeling a little warm in here." _Her hand went to her neck, widening the collar even farther.

"_Why, not at all, Ms. Morgan."_

Through his earpiece,Jeff could feel the woman flash Steiner a wide smile with her perfect rows of teeth. He quickly made his way over to the bed and produced a silencer from a briefcase. Beside the case was a woman, her hands and feet bound with flexicuffs and her mouth covered with tape. Ignoring her, Jeff attached the silencer, hit the safety on the rifle, and rested his chin on the stock.

Morgan had settled into a chair opposite Steiner's desk, her fingers were locked together, resting lightly on elegantly crossed legs. She nodded politely, staring at Steiner's forehead.

"I can't get a shot. Make him stand up."

Hearing this, she seductively leaned onto the desk, arching her back so that Steiner had full view of her chest area. Morgan continued to make small talk, then when she pulled away, her hand managed to knock a tub of paperclips onto the carpeted floor. She bent over and rapidly started to pick them up, rattling off apologies.

As soon as Steiner stood up, through his scope Jeff watched the side of his head explode in a shower of pink mist and brain matter. He released the trigger and ejected the spent casing. In the other building, Morgan was still for a moment, staring at the body. Within a second, satisfied at what she saw, she muttered through her teeth, _"He's dead."_

Then she let off a loud shriek and covered her mouth, putting on "surprised" for the security feed. It was Jeff's cue to leave. He came away from the window, disassembling his rifle as fast as he could.

"_What happened!"_

"_I-I don't know! One minute he was standing and talking to me, the next…"_

"_Someone call security!"_

"_I only opened the window for a few minutes…the shot came from across the street I think!"_

_Thanks_, Jeff thought as he swiftly packed up his equipment and laid it neatly in his rifle case. He picked up the shell casing and dropped it in a plastic bag. Next, he sliced the restraints off of the woman and made sure she was still breathing. The sedatives would wear off in a few minutes, but by then, all traces of Jeff ever being in the room would vanish with him.

"_What's your status?"_

"Feelin' fine. You?"

"_I'm out of the office and heading into the elevator now. Hurry up."_

"Yeah."

Morgan had the security feed disabled that morning in the elevator. She strode past the repair guy, who locked eyes with her for a second. Then he stood aside and allowed her past the "Elevator Closed For Maintenance" sign. He gathered his toolkit and disappeared into the crowd of business people while she hit the panel for ground floor. As soon as the elevator doors shut, Morgan whipped off her glasses and pulled the dark hair off her head, revealing her usual blonde coiled into a bun. She wriggled out of her jacket and nylon stockings, kicking aside her heeled shoes. Shoving her clothing into a duffel bag the repairman had left, she climbed up on the rail with her bare feet, and pushed open a panel on the roof of the elevator. She reached around until her hand found another strap, and she pulled a second bag down and hid the first.

The indicator flashed at floor 5… 4…

Morgan pulled on a new shirt and jumped into a pair of jeans, replacing her heels with runners. She brought the strap of her new bag over her head and slid a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. As the elevator dinged and opened up to the wide lobby, she let down her hair and felt it spread and bounce over her shoulders as she walked to the exit.

Jeff tugged a gravball cap over his head and brought out his own pair of shades. He surveyed the room once more, then finally exited the hotel room. He walked towards the elevators, but suddenly turned around as two men from Steiner's security detail exited from an arriving elevator car. He looked to the ground as they passed. From outside the car, a bellhop tapped the call button. Jeff looked back, then silently placed his briefcase onto the luggage rack in the hallway and entered the fire exit.

He broke into a run on the way down, charging down the concrete steps. The two men appeared on the stairwell, reaching into their jackets. As they called for him to stop, Jeff threw himself at one, fist first. The man took the hit and smashed his head against a wall in the narrow space. The second withdrew a pistol, but Jeff grabbed his arm and swung up at his groin with his right fist. The man doubled over and Jeff swept his legs out from under him, causing him to slide down a couple steps. Jeff snatched the weapon from his right hand and smashed it against the back of the man's head. He released the limp arm and continued onto the lobby.

Jeff kept the handgun tucked underneath his sleeve in the palm of his hand until he reached a garbage can, where he thrust his hand deep into the bag and deposited the thing. He walked down the stairs briskly, keeping both hands in his pockets.

"_That him?"_

"_I think so."_

Security.

He saw one put a radio to his lips and heard a garbled reply. Three of Steiner's men surrounded him. One pulled out a taser while the second and third roughly grabbed and started to frisk him.

"What the hell, man!" Jeff, the indignant bystander.

"Hey! What's going on?" A suited guy, the hotel manager, pulled Jeff away from the trio. He began to yell at them, "What the _hell_ d'you think you're doing, harassing my guests?"

"We were specifically told to—"

"I don't give a damn what you were told. This is my hotel!"

"I want them fired!" Jeff threw in, adjusting his cap.

"Like hell!" One stepped in close to Jeff, shoving him backwards. The manager stopped them again.

"Hey, hey! All right, you can't stay here! Just get the hell out! Sir, I'm very sorry about this. They don't work here."

"You mean not anymore." Jeff shoved his hands in his pockets again.

"If you'll follow me, sir. We do need to scan your person before you leave. Sorry for the inconvenience."

Jeff cast a look at the three men and held out his arms as a hotel security guard ran a metal detector up and down his body. The guard nodded to the manager, "He's clean."

"I apologize again, sir. I hope you enjoyed the rest of your time here."

"I did, thank you."

Jeff exited through the glass double doors, looking down the sidewalk, pausing at the curb to pick up his briefcase off the luggage rack. Looking both ways, he crossed the street and walked down the crowded sidewalks of the metropolis.

He felt the cap being lifted from his head and an arm slink around his neck, slightly brushing his ear. Jeff stole a quick glance to his left, but blonde-haired woman continued to stare ahead with a small smile on her lips. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey yourself."

A billboard hovering over the streets flashed warnings with security vid pictures of a woman with dark hair and business suit with the words "Individual Wanted for Suspicious Activity" underneath. As the wail of sirens cut through the air, the couple vanished into the sea of people.

* * *

_The secretary smiled at him. The lights flickered. He strained to stay upright._

"_I don't care if our partners won't like it! Dammit, they don't tell me how to run my own fuckin' company! The next time we reconvene, Mr. Greene, you'll…" Steiner stopped and stared at the conference room door. He quickly finished with, "We're done for today."_

_Steiner walked over and said with a smile, "Jeffrey! It's so good to see you!"_

_Jeff was frozen in place. His right hand could feel the bulge of a pistol in his jacket pocket. He shook Steiner's hand, then followed the man into his office. Steiner opened up a cabinet, producing a bottle and two glasses. He returned to Jeff, offering the drink._

_The lights flickered once more. _

_Jeff whipped out the pistol and stuck the barrel into Steiner's forehead. Without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger. _

_The weapon clicked empty. _

_Before he could search for more ammunition, Steiner laid a hand on the barrel, firmly yanking it away from Jeff. _

_Steiner set it down and asked, "Why, Jeff?"_

"_How do you know my name?"_

"_I don't easily forget a good friend."_

"_I don't even know who you are."_

"_You only think you don't."_

"_I don't. My orders are to kill you."_

"_You only think they are."_

"_All I know is that I _need_ to kill you."_

"_Jeff," Steiner said. "I'm already dead."_

"_Not yet. You're still standing. It's a problem."_

"_Because, Jeff, you only think it is."_

"_Stop that. What the hell are you talking about?"_

"_Your mind controls your body. But who controls _yourmind_?"_

"_Freddy…" Jeff stopped in midsentence._

_Steiner grinned again and plodded towards the window, undoing the latches and sliding it open. _

_Jeff continued. "…Me. I control my mind."_

_The man took two steps into the centre of the room behind his desk and glanced at his watch. He said, "That's what you think."_

"_What are you…"_

_There was a sharp crack, and the man's head snapped to the side, blood splattering the wall. For a moment, Jeff watched the liquid seep into the carpet, wide-eyed. He backed up slowly, then turned around and met the barrel of a pistol. The one on Steiner's desk was missing._

_The woman with dark hair and glasses stared at him coldly, holding the weapon against Jeff's forehead._

_He told her, "It's empty. I already tried it…"_

_The blast bounced off the walls while bullet ripped through his skull, sending him spiraling to the ground. _

Jeff gasped, trapping cold air in his lungs. His head throbbed, slamming away at his forehead mercilessly. He rolled to his side, resting his head on his arm for a second while his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"Jeff, you okay?"

He sat up, suddenly staring into a pair of icy blue irises. He inhaled sharply, recoiling a little, remembering his dream.

"Jeff…?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"I heard a yell." Her hand found its way to his face. He took it in his own, and lowered it, refusing to meet her gaze.

"I'm fine."

She slowly stood. "Then, you want to tell me why you're on the floor?"

"Not really, no." Jeff leaned his head back on the side of the mattress while she walked across the room and flung open the curtains. Jeff winced, feeling the light penetrate his eyelids. He covered his face with a muffled groan and tried to get out of the beam of sunlight.

"Jeff Benson, part Spartan, part vampire," she said, placing her hands on her hips.

"Hysterical, Morgan."

"Jeff… it's Brooke."

"…Brooke?" He squinted. "You look like Morgan."

"…We're finished with the mission now, so you don't have to call me 'Morgan' anymore." She leaned over him again. "Hey, what's with you?"

He laughed awkwardly and said, "Just tired." Jeff got to his feet and pushed the hair from his face.

"Debrief in twenty, all right?" Brooke walked past Jeff, but stopped and gave him a friendly squeeze on the arm. She said, "I wanted to tell you, you did great out there. I mean that."

Steiner's expressionless face flashed behind Brooke. Jeff averted his gaze.

"Thanks."

"See you in a bit."

Showered and clean shaven, Jeff slunk into the briefing room. A couple of suited men, Brooke, and Dr. Wells were seated at the long table. The suits threw glances his way and returned to flipping through their folders. Brooke raised her index and middle fingers from the table in quick greeting while he eased into a chair across from her.

"Good of you to join us, Jeff." A grey-haired man holding a styrofoam coffee cup strolled into the room, shutting the double doors behind him.

"Pleasure to be here, Mr. Earle."

Earle took his seat at the head of the table and set his cup down on his copy of the mission report. "In a nutshell, the mission was successful?"

"To the best of my knowledge," Brooke offered. "We entered our designated buildings, pulled off the hit, and escaped security teams without any complications."

"You're sure William Steiner is dead?"

"I didn't have time to physically examine the target, but from where I was standing, the shot was accurate and lethal."

Looking satisfied, Earle asked, "If Steiner were to somehow walk out of the coroner's office with a hole in the side of his head, would he be able to ID you two?"

Jeff's eyes flittered over to Earle, who seemed to be staring right at him. But Brooke shook her head and concluded with, "It was a very clean job, on both our ends."

"Well done, you two. If you don't have anything to add, Jeff, we'll be moving onto the next assignment. We have here—"

"Who was he?"

Earle removed his glasses. "Who are you talking about?"

"Freddy… Steiner. Why did we have to kill him?"

"We have information concerning Steiner's involvement with known insurrectionists, Jeff. Every bit we can take from them is a step closer to stability." Earle paused and asked, "You called him 'Freddy'?"

"My weird mistake."

"William Frederick Steiner. Frederick is his middle name, but it's not legally written on his file, and he only tells his friends to call him by this name."

Jeff's brow knit together, and he asked, "Did I… _know_ Steiner, or meet him before?"

Wells and Earle shared a look, which he caught for the split second duration. Brooke studied him from the corner of her vision.

"Jeff?"

He shook his head. "It was some dream I had. He was in it, and he talked to me like he knew me. I was just wondering about—"

"No." Earle was blunt about it. He locked eyes with Jeff and said very carefully, "This is the first time you have ever seen Steiner in person."

The room was silent. Jeff's eyes went around the table, but everyone's gaze was on him. He looked at Earle again and shrugged. "Okay."

With a cough, Earle replaced his glasses and flipped through a folder of files. Wells quietly excused herself from the conference room with a few jotted notes. Jeff stole a glance at Brooke, and but her eyes were trained elsewhere.

"Now, onto your next assignment... We have some solid intel that Agent Fisher"—Earle motioned to one of the suits—"would like to share with us. You have the floor, Fisher."

"Thank you, Mr. Earle." The man stood up and cleared his throat. The lights dimmed and the holographic imaging device hummed to life. "If you'll look at this, these are the faces of a group of wealthy socialites. They're wanted by dozens of agencies all over for having Insurrectionist ties and other unsavoury activities. They also happen to be dead men. Does anyone know what else they might have in common?"

Jeff began, "They're all kind of ug—" Brooke caught Jeff's eye and she gave him a half-shake with her head. He stopped in midsentence and fiddled with his fingers on the conference table. "You were saying?"

"They're going to be all together in a nightclub in New Van, on Earth. Whether it was a coincidence or they're actually going to meet, it's the perfect time to take all of them out, before they can go into hiding. Once they enter the club, they'll be tagged and tracked by our people working the doors."

"If you've got guys in there already, why can't they just do the job?"

"These people don't have nearly the amount of field training you two do," Fisher explained. "And after they start tracking all the targets, they're out of there before the fireworks start. You guys will be the only ones in.

"First is Andre Johns, arms dealer with his hand in at least a half a dozen known Insurrectionist cells." The holographic image displayed the first target, a balding man entering his 60's with a hooked nose and sunken eyes. "There's club security, then there's Johns' body guards. The man is paranoid… you'll never take him alone."

"So we go after him last."

"Wouldn't have been bad plan, but this brings us to—" Fisher thumbed through the holographic images with a quick flick of his fingers—"this ugly bastard."

Jeff's lips twitched into a smile, which Brooke did catch. She rolled her eyes.

"Tommy Valone. He's a big fish, but that's about all we know. We think his security will be a private army compared to Johns'. If any new updates come to, we'll apprise you. We just know he's going to be there."

"We're supposed to just ask around?—'Hey buddy, can you tell us where your boss is? We just want to talk… and shoot him a bunch.'"

Fisher shrugged. "That's the notion. There's one more name of mention. Andrew Holt." Jeff thought he detected a slight hesitation in the man's voice, but he let the man continue. He said, "There are a bunch of others, and we believe they'll all be in one place at a time. As long as you catch them there, this part of the mission shouldn't be too difficult. They're all mentioned in the report. That about sums it up."

Earle stepped in. "Brooke, Jeff, how you complete the mission is up to you. Try to keep unnecessary civilian casualties at a minimum. Just remember, it is imperative you find and eliminate these people. If you don't have any further questions, you can visit Op-Tech for equipment."

As Jeff stood to leave, Earle cleared his throat.

"Oh, and Jeff?"

"Yeah?"

"I think Dr. Wells would like to have a word with you now."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Something like that. Best not keep the good Doctor waiting."

Five minutes later, Jeff found himself outside Wells' office, staring through the ribbed glass. He inhaled deeply and pushed his way through the door. The Doctor sat at her desk, typing away and scribbling down notes in a book.

She was a petite woman, her heels and slender body giving her the illusion of being taller and more salient than she was supposed to be. Like usual, her sandy coloured hair was pinned up elegantly, and her thick rimmed glasses only helped the appearance of a librarian. Wells glanced up at Jeff, who strolled in and casually surveyed the relatively small office—a room big enough for a desk, bookcase, and a few chairs. She gave him a quick smile and told him to give her a couple of minutes. Her demeanor was something Jeff couldn't exactly figure out. When she smiled at him, it could easily be passed for a reassuring gesture of care… or someone getting ready to kill.

She finally locked her computer and stood up and beckoned for him to follow her. "Come with me, please, Jeff."

The two entered a room behind her office, a place which seemed like a combination of an examination room, operating room, and psychologist's office all at once. The suite was furnished with warm burgundy and brown furniture, leather loveseats and marble countertops. The dimmed pot lights above flickered to life, and Jeff half-expected a fireplace to start up somewhere.

Wells strode into the room, her heels clicking on the obsidian tiles. She patted the chair in the centre, motioning for Jeff to have a seat. After he settled in, Wells withdrew a pen from her breast pocket and said, "Tell me about this dream you had."

"I was inside the office of the guy we killed, Steiner. The only thing running through my mind was that I had one order… eliminate him."

"Did you?"

"I tried. My pistol was empty, when I tried to shoot. Is that significant? I mean, does that symbolize something?"

"Most likely," Wells said. Jeff noted that she didn't write anything down. "What happened next?"

"He started talking to me, and then he died. The way I killed him, in real life." Wells was about to interject, but Jeff said, "This all stays between us, right?"

The doctor put a hand on his shoulder. "Of course, Jeff, you can tell me anything. Please, tell me everything."

"When I turned around, I saw Morgan standing behind me."

"You mean Brooke."

"It's like I didn't even recognize her. It didn't feel like I knew _her_ at that moment."

"Why?"

"Well, she kind of shot me."

"Oh."

"Pretty big 'oh'."

"You said Steiner spoke to you. What did he say?"

"He sort of rambled… I didn't catch all of it. About being in control. …She actually _shot_ me!"

Wells ignored him and pressed on. "Being in control?"

"Of the mind or whatever. I think I'm missing something… obvious. I don't know."

The doctor set aside her notepad and pen, the paper still unmarked. "Thank you, Jeff."

"No problem," he said, and swung a leg over the side to get off, but she quickly stopped him.

"No, no. Where are you going?"

"Aren't we done?"

"I'm afraid not." She pushed him back into the chair gently and said, "There's something I need to do before you go."

Before Jeff could reply, she began to fasten straps over his wrists, restraining him to the chair. "Comfy," he said.

Wells replied, "This is just a precaution during the procedure."

"Afraid I'll hurt myself?"

She rolled up his sleeve, then produced a syringe from a drawer and dabbed at his arm with a swab. "No," Wells said, "this is for me."

"What?" Jeff stared at her, feeling the pinch of the needle entering his arm. Wells watched as his head slumped back and the room faded to black.

"_Jeff, you with me?"_

His head snapped to the side, seeing Brooke's expectant face.

"You ready?"

"Yeah… just as soon as she…" Jeff looked around, feeling a cool breeze rush through his hair. Behind Brooke lay the skyline of glowing lights and towering skyscrapers. The noise of traffic and late night beats wound its way through the metropolis. "…is finished."

"Who?"

"I… Uh, nevermind."

"Hey, I need you awake for this. You can dream when we're done."  
Jeff closed his eyes, clearing his mind. "I'm good."

"Great. Let's run this through one more time. That," Brooke motioned to a tall building across the street, "is where it all happens. The top few floors actually make up AllSky, that's name of the club."

"I got that."

"Security's tight. There's no way we're getting in with our usual loadout. Lucky for me, I've got a friend who knows how to get things done. I'll be picking up a little something for myself at a pre-designated drop."

"And me? What do I do?"

"First you need to have some friends. But until then, you'll have to find 'em as you go."

"Friends?"

"Weapons." Brooke activated her earpiece. _"We're ready."_

Jeff felt his own buzz. Another voice flowed through. _"Roger. Proceed to the entrance unarmed."_

"Confirmed."

"_Brooke, we'll tell you where you can find your equipment once you're inside the club. Jeff, stay close to her. You'll receive your first set of instructions shortly after."_

"Okay, man." Jeff caught an annoyed glance from Brooke. He corrected, "_Confirmed_. Benson out."

Wall stared over the heads of the throng of people, the flashing lights and the obnoxious slam-bam of the beat playing hell with his senses. He stood erect, his hands stiffly folded over each other while his partner stood a few feet away on the opposite side of the men's room door. A lady exited the crowd, shakily making her way to the ladies' washroom. Her blonde hair bobbed wildly, and as she passed the bodyguard she gave him a smile laced with alcohol. His eyes caught how the tight leather she wore accentuated her… _form_, but he averted his gaze, pretending not to have noticed. She giggled and stumbled through the door.

He heard the door reopen and watched two girls prance out on unsteady heels, purses swaying past their hips, down where their glittery dresses ended. Again, he turned his attention to looking over the heads of the crowd. He never saw the muzzle of a silencer find its way to his temple. But his partner felt a spray of warm liquid splatter onto the side of his face.

The man turned to find a woman instead of Wall, and she was training a pistol on his forehead. Instinctively, his hand jumped inside his jacket, his fingers closing around his own handgun. As he tugged the weapon out of its holster, Jeff, who was previously watching the scene from the bar, had already broken into a full run and exploded into action.

The pistol only made it up halfway, before his arm was smashed against the doorframe, and his whole body shoved through the door with a startling _crash_! The momentum carried both of them all the way into the side of a bathroom stall. Jeff felt the metal dent as he ran the bodyguard's skull into it. Jeff's fist connected with the man's face and he fell aside with a groan, blood seeping from a gash on the back of his head, smearing on the stall.

Three body guards positioned around the washroom stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Then Jeff let them have it.

The first removed his handgun, but before he could train it on his target, his arm was shoved upwards, while a powerful strike landed on his side, bruising the flesh and breaking a rib. Gasping in pain, he squeezed the trigger. The fluorescent bank of lights shattered overhead, showering the second guard with bits of glass.

Making use of the brief distraction, Jeff whirled around and slapped the firearm out of the second's hands. The third took a swipe at Jeff, not even bothering with his pistol, but Jeff released his opponent and dodged the blow. He let loose a kick to his kneecap and unleashed a heavy hook with his left. The man staggered backwards, attempting to regain his footing, but his knee gave away and he tumbled to the ground.

Jeff turned back to the first, put two jabs into the man's jaw, and finished with an open palmed strike upwards into his nose, slamming his head back into a bathroom stall.

Jeff kicked away the discarded pistol, turning his attention to the second guard who had now just recovered his own weapon from under the sink. As he fumbled with the safety, Jeff strode forward and wrapped a hand around his throat. He shoved the man back into the mirror, brought back a fist, and cracked the glass from behind the force of the punch traveling through a skull. He slumped over the sink, and Jeff finished him off with a downwards chop, putting the man's face through it. Bits of bloody porcelain and teeth hit the tiled floor.

The third guard was getting up as Jeff checked the mirror and wiped the blood from his face. He pulled the dazed man to his feet, relieved him of his weapon, and began to drag him down the row of bathroom stalls, taking few steps and listening carefully. From behind a door, he heard the familiar sound of a hammer being cocked. Standing off to the side, Jeff gave the man one final push. He took a few uneasy steps, and shots suddenly rang out, the noise pounding off every wall in the confined space, but Jeff held onto his lapel, holding him upright as the rounds slammed into his body. More bullet holes were punched in the stall door, randomly placed and erratically fired.

A desperate man with nowhere left to run… literally.

Jeff finally let go of the guard, his body noisily hitting the floor. He waited until the guy in the stall slid open the lock to take a peek, and then Jeff took a step forward and kicked in the door, catching him in the face. The man grunted, and fell onto the toilet seat, blood running from a broken nose. His eyes widened as he saw his to-be-killer.

Jeff levelled the pistol and shot him two times in the chest. The man's head drooped forward; he was breathing heavily, red staining his suit. Jeff brought the silenced muzzle a few centimetres from the man's forehead and fired once more.

He slunk out of the harsh fluorescent light, into the chaos of flashing colours and a pulsing bass rumble which pounded into Jeff's body, and reverberated through his gut. He preferred a quieter environment to work, as he felt all of his senses being assaulted. The strobes nearly blinded him, there were too many people around him to tell if he was in any sort of danger, and there was barely any room to manoeuvre as he made his way around the floor. He felt naked, out in the open. The crowd worked two ways. Some say it's a great tool to use when one needs to disappear. To others, more people just meant one has to work harder in order for there to be no witnesses—the rule most vital in his line of work. The only difference between "some people" and Jeff was that he wasn't too concerned about leaving with no witnesses. A high body count was usually involved.

Although he considered himself a professional, one who carried out a job without any sort of personal involvement or emotion, he couldn't help the feeling of self-satisfaction which grew stronger with every step he took. Killing had gone from necessary task to something of an event. It was becoming exciting for him. He had already moved on from thinking about his most recent act of violence, his mind now clear and ready to seek out the next.

"_Next targets are in the VIP Lounge, and you're on _RichardAnders'_ list,"_ the voice cackled through his earpiece. Jeff turned on his heel and the frenzied voices and laughter around him began to fade. He pushed through the fray driven by a new force… purpose.

"Hey buddy! You a VIP? If you ain't—"

"Richard Anders' list," Jeff told the bouncer blocking a set of gold-plated double doors, straight-faced. "I think I'm early."

"Sorry, I don't seem to…"

One of the doors opened and large man from club security told the bouncer to let him through. The bouncer hesitated for a moment, then said, "Of course. Have a great time."

Jeff followed him down a hallway past a man whose middle-aged hands were wrapped around an attractive blonde's backside. They were engaged in an intense face-sucking session, but as Jeff passed by, he caught the eye of the woman.

_Oh._

"Right here, sir," the guard said, motioning into a room. "After you."

Jeff had no choice but to turn… into an empty room. There was no barman working the blender, fixing drinks, or guests settled into the designer couches. He remarked, "I guess I _am_ early."

As he turned around, the guard was in the middle of removing a .44 magnum revolver from his jacket. Jeff didn't waste a second. He put a fist into the man's jaw and snatched the weapon out of his hands. Then he took out a knee with a well-placed kick, and swung the butt of the revolver into his face, knocking him over and down the three steps to the marble floor face-first. Jeff checked that the door was locked, something the man had already done, then tucked the weapon into his waistband and made his way down.

Blood streamed from a broken nose and a few missing teeth and smeared on the glossy finish of the floor. The kick had left the guard more or less crippled, something the man had discovered when he tried to get to his feet and run, but only managed to find himself on the ground once again. Jeff pulled him into a sitting position against a glass pedestal with an expensive looking ornament placed on it.

"I gotta thank you for setting up this… one on one," Jeff began. "Without it, I think I'd be going into this party a little unprepared. Now, with your help—"

"Screw you, asshole…"

Jeff lashed out with a powerful kick, snapping the man's head back and smashing the pedestal into hundreds of shards. He grabbed the man by the lapel of his suit and said, "Let me finish."

"This the interrogation?"

"Good guess."

Jeff threw him over the coffee table, the glass surface letting off a _thunk!_ as his forehead connected with it. He bent the man's arm and pushed it up his back as far as it would go, then a little further. There was a muted _pop!_ and the guard let out a yell.

"Sonnuva bitch!" he yelped in between grunts of pain. "Didn't even ask me yet!"

"That was just for me. But this…" Jeff grabbed his other arm, ignoring the groan "…is on you. So, where's Valone?"

"Who—" Jeff repeated the process and let him yell out in pain for a bit. With both shoulders dislocated, Jeff kept an arm on the back of his neck.

"You look like club security, but it's not every day they try to _kill_ you. Where's. Valone?" he repeated.

"Dumb shit! I _am_ club security! You thought Johns was bad, in the bathroom? Yeah, we found him. You're asking me now, betcha didn't know Valone owns this fuckin' place!"

Jeff paused. _Fucking Fisher only overlooked this little _huge_ detail._

"Well… thanks. You've been good about all this."

"Piece 'a shit! You know he's coming for you! Hell d'ya think they asked me to deal with you, huh? Run and hide, buddy… stay here any longer and you'll have this whole fuckin' club all over you, you retarded ass—"

With a downward blow, Jeff slammed his forehead into the glass, shattering the whole table top. The guard's limp upper body hung loosely, his nose pressed against the ground, both arms caught on the iron frame, bent unnaturally.

He re-entered the hallway to find Brooke with her knee pressed against the man's back, who was now lying on the floor on his stomach. His face was turning another shade as she strangled him with his own tie. He let out a raspy gasp and stared at Jeff, bug-eyed. But he just looked away and kicked him in the head, knocking him out.

"Hey! I was—"

"Bad news," Jeff said, ignoring her. "Valone controls club security. The job just became _this_ much harder. And who the hell…?" He looked at the man between them. "He start to get inappropriate?"

"Number eight on the list. If you bothered to…"

"Oh." Jeff shrugged and motioned to the body. "Then by all means…"

"Thank you." Brooke reached for the tie.

"Ahh-ahh—" She stopped and sighed pulling out a folded butterfly knife from her concealed garter belt. Jeff peeked into the set of double doors where another VIP party was going on while Brooke silently worked. She wiped the blade against the man's suit and rejoined Jeff.

"That's the place. We can knock a lot of the names off the list here. How do you want to do this?" she asked. "You can go in there and take them out one by one, while…"

"_You_ clean up your mess and find me something to keep these doors shut."

Brooke was taken aback. "Or we can—"

"No."

"But I—"

"Just do it." Jeff adjusted his tie once again and entered the party.

At a glance, the room was easily the biggest public display of alcohol apart from a winery Jeff had laid his eyes upon. An easy two thirds of the circular room was bar counter and stools; the glare of the strobe light glinted off the hundreds of chilled beverages lining the walls and underneath the stylish glass countertops.

A couple dozen or so men lounged around on couches situated on fur rugs while girls with deliciously short dresses spilled onto their laps. The men paid no notice to Jeff, but he didn't return the favour. He made note of everyone he had seen on the holovid, and then some. He also noted that the room did not have sprinklers. Candles were lit and spread around the room, on tables, suspended from the ceiling. They planned for flames… but they never planned for this.

Jeff wasted no time. He strolled over to the edge of the counter closest to the exit and sat down. He flagged down one of the many bartenders and said, "Get me a vodka rocks."

The man nodded, after studying his face for a brief moment. While he prepared set down the glass, he risked a glance at his patron and asked, "This your first time here?"

Their eyes locked. Jeff smiled and told him, "It is at that. Lucky me to snag an invite."

The bartender placed down the drink in front of Jeff, which he sampled appreciatively. "Thank you…" Jeff searched for a nametag.

"Rico."

"_Rico_, you wouldn't happen to have a light on you, would you?"

"I just might," Rico said, digging into his apron and sliding it across the glass.

Jeff's fingers closed around it, and he spent a moment flicking it open and closed. He finally said, "Exciting place, huh?"

The man chuckled over the dull roar. "Been serving these guys for about two months now. Every night's the same, they just leave with a different girl. This job… exciting? Could use some of that."

Jeff slid off the stool and replied, "Tonight's your lucky night, Rico."

"Hang on, are you going to use that?" Rico motioned to the lighter.

"Oh, no. I don't smoke."

"Then what—"

Jeff's hand gripped the leg of the stool and in a fluid motion, swung it over the counter into the wall, obliterating all the shelves, the subsequent impact destroying the entire display of flammable liquid. Rico was frozen, mouth agape. The rest of the room was silent. Jeff flicked on the lighter and shrugged, "Thanks for the drink."

Then he tossed the thing past the bewildered bartender. The gallons of spilled alcohol instantly lit up, engulfing the entire bar in a semicircular pattern. It took a few full seconds before the panic set in.

Two body guards who were standing idly in the middle of the room reached into their jackets, their eyes locked on Jeff. The double doors flew open and Brooke stormed through, pistols in both hands. The two guards were gunned down, their hands still inside their jackets. People and chairs were knocked over as they madly scrambled for the exit, but Jeff was closer. Brooke methodically put bullets into the crowd while her partner hopped down off the raised platform and calmly strode to the doors.

Brooke ejected both empty magazines and backed up to the corridor. She threw aside the pistols and they slammed the metal doors closed.

"Well?" Jeff looked at her. Thick black smoke seeped out from the crack in the door.

Brooke reached over and produced a thick, heavy curtain rod she had found earlier. She slid it through the door handles, jamming it in until it wouldn't budge. The two took a step back, looking over their handiwork. The door rattled from hands rapidly pounding on it from the other side. Then the violent shaking gradually subsided, growing weaker and less frenzied until there was nothing.

"So," after a short silence, Jeff said without looking at her, "we go after Valone."

"We go after Valone."

Jeff wound his way through the floor once again, its dancers completely oblivious to the chaos going on all around them, concerned only about the chaos in front of them. Jeff clutched Brooke's slender hand, pulling her along like any other normal couple would. They headed up a flight of stairs, and once they reached the top, Jeff twirled her around and the two began to lock lips. When they parted, Brooke looked over at a lone guard a few metres away who tried his best not to take notice. When he did steal a glance, she performed her most seductive wink, causing Jeff to cringe and look away.

He took her hand again and the two frolicked past the guard, when Brooke lashed out a high kick, catching the guard in the jaw. He lost his balance, surprised. She finished him off by taking out his legs and another blow to the head when he was on the ground.

Tommy Valone rubbed nervously at the gold chain that hung loosely around his neck. He watched the lights of the cars far below on the street twinkle and zoom off. Behind him, three of his private body guards sat around his office; one cleaning out his firearm, the other two playing cards.

"Dono what's going on s'got you so uptight, Boss."

Valone whirled around and scowled at the man. "You 'dono' what's going on? Yeah, you got that right. You don't even know where the fuck you are right _now_, Danny."

"Hey, hey! If it's that piece of shit causing trouble around here, I already sent a guy to deal with that asshole!"

Valone wiped the sweat from his brow and took a seat. He poured himself a few fingers of Scotch, but didn't drink. Danny began to reassemble the weapon.

"Well, has your guy checked back in?"

Danny shrugged. "He's probably getting rid o' the evidence right now, Boss." He snapped the last piece into place, leaving the magazine on the table. He extended his arm and looked down the sights, aiming at the doorway. "The guy's a professional."

The doors burst open with a noisy crash. A tall blonde in a short, extremely form-hugging dress and man dressed in a dark suit swiftly entered. The two guards at the far table leaped up, one tried to reach for a sub-machine gun. But the intruders' weapons were already drawn, and the unlucky men went down under a hail of playing cards and bullets. Blood spattered the collapsed folding table and walls. Valone stabbed at a silent alarm button hidden underneath his desk and shot out of his chair, arms raised.

Danny had attempted to fire the pistol, but found it unloaded. He hastily dropped it, palms now empty and showing them clearly that he was unarmed.

Brooke shut the door and locked it, kicking over the bullet-ridden bodies. Jeff marched over to Valone's desk, his .44 drawn.

Keeping his eyes on Tommy, without hesitation he pointed it in the remaining guard and squeezed the trigger, showering Valone's white suit in a spray of blood and brain matter. Danny's chair swivelled around from the impact and his body slumped over the desk, blood pooling and running off the surface.

"Hey! HEY! What the fuck was that for!" Valone yelled, his eyes wide.

Jeff coolly pushed open the cylinder and ejected the spent cartridges, sliding in new ones and clicking it back into place. "Calm down. These ones are for you," Jeff said, inwardly wincing at the line.

"Hey, hey, no! Woah. Listen to me. Listen to me. You _know_ this place has wired security cams and everything, okay? The moment you set foot through that door, they knew you were here. There's teams of guys with guns just storming the dance floor and they're all coming up here."

"Or, you triggered the silent alarm and you want to plead for your life while you stall for time. Well?"

"Listen, I can tell them to let you walk! Let's not get too trigger happy here, okay? If you turn around and leave, I get to live another day, _you_ get to live another day, AND I'll wire a good amount of cred into any account you got!"

"Bingo." Jeff shrugged amiably and said, "Hell, let's see what you can do. Gimme a figure, Tommy."

"Quarter mil."

"Goodbye, Tommy."

"Hey! I'm—hey I'm just testing the waters, okay?"

"And I can't think of a thing more retarded to do."

"Awright, I'm still going. Half a mil, buy yourself a nice car, take her for a ride, yeah? With that kind of money, and that kind of car, you can get a hundred _hers_ for you to drive around, if you know what I'm sayin'."

"Try harder at making me not shoot you."

"Okay! Fine! You don't want no car, I can see that."

"I want the car. I don't want half a million."

"Oh, I can get you just the car if you don't like the cash—"

Jeff put the barrel of the .44 up to Valone's head. Valone instinctively backed up to the full-sized window. "Higher."

"A cool million."

"Higher."

"What, two? Three? Ten fuckin' million? Just name it, and you got it, buddy."

"Jeff." Brooke interrupted, her eyes locked on a nearby screen. Her hands danced on the keyboard. "His men are coming by the dozens. They'll be here in fifteen seconds."

"I don't lie! I told you they'd be here. But I'll let you walk away. Nobody gets hurt?"

"That's nice to believe."

"So you'll take my offer?"

"To tell you the truth, we're already pretty high up." A rhythmic smashing on the locked door started up. Valone's men were outside.

"That's—that's right. Ten million dollars ain't easy to come by, no. Honestly, this could be the best decision of your life!"

"But the best thing about being this high up…" Jeff paused for a moment, setting his revolver down on the desk behind him, "…it's a long way down."

"Yeah, completely! Long fuckin'… way…" Valone trailed off, his eyes widening.

Jeff lunged forward with a single bound, and thrust his fist into Valone's chest. He felt bones break from the blow, which travelled all the way through the man's body, propelling him backwards. Through the sheet of glass. Into the night air. Below him, two hundred metres of nothing. Valone couldn't even scream as he plummeted towards the pavement.

Behind Jeff, the doors exploded in a shower of splinters and sawdust. He dove behind the desk, snatching up the .44. Brooke took cover behind the cabinet. Through the smoke, four men rushed through, guns blazing. The cedar paneling was torn to shreds, the rest of the window blew apart, raining down glass on the street below. Jeff popped up briefly to snap off a few shots, catching three of the men in their chests and heads. The last man hosed down the desk with his light machine gun, but Brooke whirled around the cabinet and put two rounds from the MP4 into his forehead.

"Jeff!" Brooke shouted across the room as he put the emptied the remaining slugs of the .44 into the next wave of security. He dropped the revolver and looked back at her, just in time to catch the airbourne MP4. She pulled out her two pistols, ran forward and dove across the room. The guards temporarily turned their attention to her, retraining their weapons. Jeff brought the submachine-gun up and fired in quick bursts, gunning down the remaining men. Five bodies hit the ground as Brooke rolled to her side and fired off rounds into the figures inside the smoke through the doorframe. Jeff stepped around the desk and ran to the cabinet. Its doors were punched full of holes, its contents exposed. When pulled they came off their hinges in a tangle of broken wood and screws. Inside was what looked to be Valone's personal stash of weaponry. Brooke had gotten to her feet, switched firing hands, and had taken up position inside the doorframe, aiming down the hall.

Jeff pulled open a drawer to find a few grenades and the ammunition cache. He called to Brooke, tossing her two more magazines of 9mm. She promptly loaded up and resumed shooting. For himself, he picked up another couple of mags for his MP4, tucking them inside his waistband. He slung the weapon over his shoulder and picked up two grenades, stuffing those into his jacket pockets.

He returned to Brooke, offering her more ammunition. She reloaded both pistols, shoving the spare mags into her concealed thigh-holster strap. Jeff kicked over a few dead men until he could tug out the light machine gun. It was large enough to have a folded bipod attachment and an ammunition belt fed from a box magazine.

Brooke pointed down the hallway littered with bodies and told him, "There's a bunch hanging around the corner. They're not coming any further."

"Then let's get them." Jeff produced a grenade and handed it to his partner. "They're gonna hear us coming."

Jeff and Brooke worked their way down the hall, their shoes silent on the carpet, walking until they could hear voices. Jeff got into a ready position, his LMG raised. Brooke ran forward, her heels noisily clomping on tile, primed grenade in hand.

One stepped around the corner, his SMG held out in front of him. Unlucky bastard had a full second before Jeff jammed on the trigger. The bullets tore through his chest and embedded themselves into the back wall, spitting out plumes of drywall dust. Brooke lobbed the grenade around the corner. Surprised yells erupted, and the explosion shook the hall shortly after. She had left little time for them to get away.

Jeff rounded the corner to see a handful of shredded bodies on the ground and all over the wall and half a dozen men recovering from the blast which torn the wallpaper and had knocked down every painting hung up. He quickly opened up, firing from the hip. In a spray of blood, the survivors were cut down.

Brooke picked her way through the mess of bodies and patches of fire, Jeff following behind, watching for any movement.

"We need an exit strategy," Jeff said, staring at the carnage. "Roof extraction?"

"Too obvious. Since everyone actually, you know, parties _on_ the helipad."

Jeff stared straight ahead. "Oh yeah. Duh."

"We go out the same way we came in."

As they reached the staircase and gunfire rang out from down below, bullets pinged off the rail near Jeff. More men rushed into position, standing behind the decorative pillars surrounding the bottom steps.

Brooke swore. "Bad idea?"

He remarked drily to her as they found cover, "No no, that'll be fun."

He rose and rested the barrel of the LMG on the rail for stability while he held down the trigger, unleashing hell on those one level down. Bits of stone and chalky dust flew off the pillars as he sent bullets in every direction. Brooke moved across the upper landing, chucking another grenade at a cluster of guards. This time, they were able to jump clear of the blast… right into Jeff's line of sight.

The duo flew down the stairs, as another group appeared on the opposite side of the room. They immediately opened fire, their bullets flying overhead and bouncing off the pillar near Jeff's head. He turned on his heel, spraying them with the LMG. One took a smattering of rounds and flew backwards while the others ducked out of view. Jeff continued backing up while firing across the room hitting nothing, but the LMG finally clicked empty. One of the men stepped out from behind the pillars, his weapon trained on Jeff's head. Before he could shoot, Brooke pushed past Jeff, firing both her pistols. The guard took a few rounds in the head and slumped over backwards, hitting the pillar. The remaining guards kept under heavy cover.

"We gotta go!" she urged, keeping her weapons at the ready. Jeff nodded, throwing aside the LMG and reaching for the MP4. "Come on!"

She dragged Jeff through a set of French doors, back onto the frenzy of the dance floor. They pushed their way through the crowds as the glass on the doors exploded behind them, but the dancers paid no attention. The shards crashed to the ground, the sound drowned out by the pounding noise and excitement. The two weaved through the crowds, keeping low and casting their eyes on security guards scanning the heads of the throng.

One caught Brooke's passing glance and moved onto the dance floor, his hand on his earpiece. She stared straight ahead, moving deeper into the fray. The man struggled to keep up through the dense mass of flailing arms and bodies, but he was suddenly shoved from behind. As he turned around, a knee barrelled up into his groin. Before he could double over, he caught a stiff jab in the windpipe. Unable to breathe, he dropped to the ground, and Jeff stomped on his face. His radio cackled, and Jeff saw three more circling guards look to his last known position. They began to move, their weapons now drawn. Jeff disappeared into the crowd.

The guards fanned out, pushing their way through until they found the body. One's hand flew to his earpiece, but before he could notify anyone he was tackled from behind. The force drove him to the ground face-first, and his assailant forcefully stuck a knee into the small of his back and drove a palm into the base of his neck, mashing his cheek into the floor. He tried to yell out, but Jeff hammered the side of his head with two hands, forcing his neck to twist in an awkward, inhuman angle.

His partner spotted Jeff when the crowd parted slightly. He raised his pistol to kill the bastard, but a slender arm snaked around his neck and locked into position. Another hand grabbed hold of his right wrist, throwing off his aim. His finger closed on the trigger as he fought his unseen attacker, firing off the weapon. The shots flew over Jeff's head, one catching an unlucky dancer in the forehead.

Now the crowd began to take notice. Some screamed, causing panic to ripple throughout the room. Brooke's fingers tightened on the man's wrist, the force causing the bones to snap. The man dropped the gun, and her hand flew to her thigh. He gurgled and began to fall limp as a blade plunged into his back three times, severing his spinal cord. As he fell, she quickly loosened her grip on his head and buried the hilt in his jugular.

Brooke let the body drop to the ground. As she turned around, an unarmed guard caught her in the side of the face. Reeling, she stumbled backwards. He pulled his arm back to let her have it again, but out from nowhere, Jeff dashed forward and tackled him through a floor-mounted speaker. Wires and plastic clattered to the dance floor. The man started to rise, but Jeff's knuckles smashed into his nose dead centre putting him down forever. As Jeff got up, he avoided a brass-knuckled swing, leaned in and returned a stiff jab to the attacker's gut, force enough to make the man double over and vomit. Jeff chopped downwards at the base of the man's skull, effectively snapping his neck.

Brooke called out to him and motioned up at the second level. More had filed in armed with submachine-guns and were taking positions all along the rail. Jeff began to run. Bullets tore up the ground behind him as he made his way towards his partner. She stood and drew their attention with a couple of shots.

In one fluid motion, Jeff dove behind a couch, whipped out his MP4, rolled out, and fired a burst at the guards on the second level. Hit, one guard dropped backwards over the rail to the floor. He turned his attention to the rest who'd realised they were out in the open and had started to back away.

Across the floor, a large group ran in, wildly firing off their weapons. Jeff shot a look at Brooke, who'd also noticed. He fired off the rest of the mag in his MP4 and tossed it aside.

She slid across one of her handguns and shouted back, "You're welcome."

Jeff returned to the shootout. The club was torn to bits. It looked like it had gone through a war already. Suddenly, everyone ceased fire. Jeff heard brass casings tinkle on the ground as the guards uneasily shifted in their positions, waiting.

Valone's head of security stood in the centre and slapped in a fresh magazine into his SMG. The rest of his men had surrounded Jeff and Brooke's position. He called out to them, "Just give the hell up."

Jeff replied by firing two rounds blindly, narrowly missing the man.

"Come on! We've sealed the place off! How the fuck are you going to escape?"

"We can take you assholes."

"With what? You got nothing left!"

"You can't touch us. But trust me when I say, we've got more than enough to touch you. Maybe not your friends... but definitely you."

He laughed. "Just try. We'll see how far you get. Then what? You just gonna run out of here?"

"I've always wanted to try jumping."

The man turned around, his eyes wide. Behind him, through the full-sized glass window overlooking the streets far below, a helicopter hovered just outside. Jeff and Brooke dove down, pressing themselves to the floor. The glass window exploded inward as a figure inside the helicopter opened up with an automatic rifle. The head guard dove down as rifle fire cut down the men standing beside him previously and raked across the entire dance floor. Guards lucky enough found cover and didn't dare to peek out again. The bullets whizzed dangerously over Jeff's head. He brought his pistol up, peering from underneath the couch on his belly. He fired the rest of the remaining bullets into the prone head guard's body. The weapon clicked empty.

"You ready?" he asked his partner, over the crackle of gunfire. Brooke nodded. He grinned and said, "Let's go."

They vaulted over the couch and as soon as they hit the ground, they shot off across the floor. Surviving guards fired at them, their shots going embarrassingly wide. The gunner emptied the last few rounds of the large box mag and set the weapon aside, standing away from the door as he saw the two charging for the helicopter.

Jeff's legs burned with energy. Each stride gathering speed and momentum. As he reached the broken window, he waited until the very last second before he pushed off and launched into the air.

His limbs flailed, propelling himself forward. He could feel the night air push against him, but nothing was going to slow him down. He felt gravity tug at him, but he cleared the distance, his shoes slamming against the metal deck. He tucked in his chin and braced himself as he rolled and slammed into the opposite door, causing the helicopter to sway uneasily. Brooke clattered onto the deck half a second later, recovering quickly. She peered out, back into the destroyed night club and noticed somebody making a run for the exit.

"Jeff! Over there!"

He got to his feet shakily and focused his eyes. "That's just a guard."

"No! It's him… it's Holt!" She brought her pistol up and aimed at his back. She urged, "Take him out, Jeff!"

His fingers closed around her pistol, but instead of taking it from her hands, he lowered her arms. The man disappeared under the neon glow of the exit sign. She angrily turned to face Jeff, but all she saw on his face was one of self-satisfaction in the still pulsing lights of the deserted club. He held her hands in his but said nothing while the helicopter swung around and pitched, heading out to the city skyline.

* * *

July 28/10: FUCK! I'm calling it. The chapter was finished months and months ago, but I sat on it for a while changing up the ending and other bullshit.

Spent so long on this motherfucker it feels much longer than 19 pages to me.


	13. Chapter XIII

Amidst crumpled covers, Jeff Benson stirred from the deep recesses of heavy, lingering sleep. His eyelids peeled open and he stared at the bumpy texture of the cream-coloured ceiling. Slightly twisting his neck, he took in the room with a quick rotation. It was fairly large, furnished sparsely but in a nice, minimalistic way. Easy on the eyes.

He swung his legs over the side and pushed himself up. From an open window, the morning breeze wafted into his room. He felt a calming chill run over his body… all over his body.

Jeff padded around the glass brick wall and peered into the bathroom. Gaudy chrome lined the edges of the mirror and faucets, contrasting strongly the obsidian-coloured counters. The clean, unused space seemed to sparkle. Well, almost unused.

He leaned over the tub and reached for the faucet.

She had been sprawled out underneath the greenish hue, her damp, blonde hair clinging to her shoulders. Her eyes gently closed.

He'd reached in, the gentle warmth crawling up his arm. His fingertips brushed over the smoothness of her thigh. The action caused her to open her eyes and stare into his. He moved to pull away, suddenly hesitant, but instead her lips curled into a smile. An arm emerged from under the surface and found its way to his face. Her wet nails glided across his jaw and she rested her slender hand on his neck, pushing past his collar.

The droplets felt ice cold as they dotted together on his sizzling, bright red skin. He was burning up. Her fingers snaked around behind his neck and she lightly pulled him closer, then met him halfway.

Their lips locked. She rose from the water, and it trickled down the rest of her body, past her beautiful, exposed curves.

Jeff released his slowly tightening grip on the faucet as the water veered close to the edge of the tub, threatening to overflow; interrupting his thoughts.

After the soak to relieve his screaming, aching muscles, he dressed in a t-shirt and grey suit he'd found in the closet and made his way to the kitchen. The corridor was well-lit, hardwood floored, and had stock paints of flowers mounted on the wall. It had all the comforts of home and more. Jeff could make the safehouse his permanent residence and manage to be happy here.

Brooke was seated at the kitchen table, sipping a franchise-coffee shop-purchased coffee and viewing the news feed on her chatter. She glanced up and gave Jeff a warm smile. Unfolding her legs, she nudged the second chair out from under the table with her shin, welcoming him to join her.

Jeff rested his hands on top of the chair while she reached over and slid a paper bag over to him which had on it the unremarkable name of the shop she'd apparently visited.

"Morning," she said. Motioning to the bag she told him, "Sorry, it's all they had left. But it's not too bad."

Jeff peeled open the bag and examined the dry, rock-hard bagel inside. Deciding to not even attempt to eat it, he slipped it back inside and folded over the opening. He plopped it down on the table and shook his head. "Come on, I know a place."

"What?"

He pointed to the bag. "That's not breakfast. I'm not even sure that's food."

"I mean, how do you 'know a place?' You haven't been here before. You can't know."

Jeff thought for a moment. "No, I do know a place. Or maybe I read about it. But whatever the case, I'm going. If you just happen to be hungry, I'd suggest joining me."

"Okay, wait." Brooke stood and tucked away her chatter. She grabbed for her coat and followed him out.

Jeff confidently marched down the streets of downtown New Van until he reached a tiny café hidden away on a street corner. Inside was airy and comfortable, at the same time, confined and cozy. It had a faint scent of cinnamon and wood smoke from a traditional decorative, yet fully functional stove at the back of the café.

They took a seat at the window, watching the cars crawl by and the people mill around on the sidewalk. A moment later, the lady running the place came by to take their order. She was an older woman dressed in a collared shirt and wore an apron, and she even had a cigarette tucked behind an ear.

"Hey, hun, how you doing?"

"I'm all right," Jeff answered, looking over the menu. "Is the breakfast special any good?"

She scribbled it down on her pad and shrugged. "You should be telling me. You order it every time you come in."

Jeff slowly raised his eyes to look at the woman more closely. He didn't see Brooke's own eyes rapidly shoot up to study his face for any sign of recognition. He seemed to be having a hard time. "Excuse me?"

"But I guess you could have forgotten," the woman said. She turned to Brooke. "What can I get for you?"

"I'll have the same," Brooke said hastily. She wanted her out of there as soon as possible.

"Two specials, coming right up." As she left, Jeff stared after her.

Brooke's mouth curled into a frown when she came back with the coffee. She poured two cups and asked, "Hey, out of curiosity, you've been gone a while," she said to Jeff. "Business trip?"

Jeff kept trying to place the face. "Uh…"

"Something like that," Brooke answered for him.

"She your girlfriend or something?"

Jeff looked at Brooke. "Brooke's… uh…"

"Is it any of your business?" Brooke snapped. "Look, I think you got the wrong guy here, all right? He clearly doesn't know you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I like to talk to my regulars. I hope that's not a problem for you, in my café."

"He has one of those faces," Brooke said, impatiently clenching her fist under the table.

"I know him all right," the woman said bluntly. "Right, Jeff?"

When she said that, something happened in Jeff's brain. Like a layer of fog had been stripped away. Like he could breathe easier, see clearer. Like the after effects of a paralyzing drug was wearing off. He began to nod slowly. "Rosalyn. Good to see you."

"Good to see you too, hun." Before she turned to leave, Rosalyn glanced at Brooke and said to Jeff. "Nice find. She's a real keeper."

Brooke glared daggers at the woman's back.

Ten minutes later, their food arrived.

Brooke lightly sprinkled pepper on her omelette and glimpsed outside. She inhaled and sighed. "It's such a beautiful city."

Jeff shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing little. His fork clattered onto the plate as he reached for the slice of buttered toast lying untouched beside the nearly half-eaten omelet. He munched on the toast and when he reached for his cup of coffee, his hand instinctively fell to the side of his plate and closed over a couple of small pills. He brought his hand to his face, but suddenly stopped.

_Wait_.

He slowly lowered his fist, dropping the pills back onto the surface of the table. For a long moment, he stared at them. He realized he had no idea where they came from.

Brooke tilted her head and looked into his eyes. "Jeff?"

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About New Van?"

"It's… nice. I mean, it's too bad we have to leave this afternoon. We catch the two o'clock back, right?"

Brooke said, "Well, actually, I spoke to Earle today."

"Oh shit."

"We're not done here yet."

Jeff frowned. "I didn't think so. Is it Holt?" His mouth fought to spit out the name.

"They've located him hiding out in the retail district in an office building. For now he's not moving, so we'll make a move on him tonight."

"Okay."

"You sound so enthused."

"It's a job, right? No need to get excited," Jeff said with a shrug. He opened his mouth to say something else, but shut himself up and returned to fiddling with the pills on the tabletop.

Brooke watched him for a couple of minutes, then she swiped the pills off the table. Before he could object, she dropped them into his cup. The pills sizzled, dissolving into the liquid.

"Crisis over," she told him. "Saw you struggling, so I made the decision for you. No need to thank me."

_I won't._

"I was kind of figuring out what those were."

Brooke's face was straight when she said, "A little relief medication. This line of work isn't exactly the most peaceful, if you haven't noticed. Now that I think of it, I should be taking them too."

Jeff jumped in. "You know what? I'm not feeling so terrible today. Fantastic. But maybe you could use it. You seem a little on edge, there, Brooke. Don't be shy. Help yourself," he said, pushing the cup in her direction. "I know I don't need it."

A flicker of _something_ crossed Brooke's face, but she quickly backpedaled and said, "Those pills are specifically for you."

Jeff narrowed his eyes and stared at her over his breakfast. "_Specifically_, huh?"

"Come on, Jeff," Brooke laughed. "It's not _poison_."

"Well, that's a frightening conclusion," Jeff said, returning the cheerfulness. "You know, I'm really not that thirsty… at this particular moment in time… and place."

As he leaned back in his chair, finished with his meal, Brooke laid a hand down on Jeff's wrist. He smiled, and tried to brush her off, but her grip was firm and unwavering. His wrist was bolted to the table. "Brooke…"

"Jeff," she said, her voice low, "Drink the coffee."

His fingers were beginning to lose feeling, but Brooke continued to tighten her grip. Jeff leaned forward and his fingers curled around the cup. He put the drink to his lips and watched her neutral expression, waiting for him to finish. The bitter liquid slid down his throat, but he continued to stare into her eyes. She smiled once more, and released her fingers from his wrist in a subtle movement that could have been mistaken for a loving stroke on the arm. She got up and visibly searched for the washroom. He could smell the fragrance of her soap as she bent down and pecked him on the cheek. She whispered in his ear, "Good boy."

Night fell over the port city. The downtown area was still a hive of activity, flickering lights and purring engines. Jeff and Brooke drove through the area until they reached the parking lot of an office building, closed for the night. Aside from a couple of streetlamps, the place was dark, lonely and desolate. Perfect.

The vehicle whined to a stop as Brooke killed the engine. They exited into the warm night air. They were lucky it hadn't rained in the city for a while, a personal best according to the weatherman.

"You're sure this is the place?"

"Why the hell would Earle lie to us?"

"This just seems like a weird place to be hiding out, you know?"

"Think about that for a minute," Brooke said, eyeing the building. "If they were hiding out in the _usual_ spots, how smart could they be?"

"Oh. Right."

"Let's get this over with. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I guess."

The two entered the office building with a authentic key card Brooke had acquired. The building was only three floors high and was very plain looking compared to the marvels of engineering they had currently. The reception area was virtually nonexistent, just stairs and an elevator to the upper floors. They did a visual sweep of the first floor, looking through all the cubicles. The office seemed to be for a tech support company.

They didn't bother to hit the lights, instead they carried flashlights and each had 9-mm pistols at the ready. In the dark, computers periodically clicked and whirred, causing them both to whirl around poised to shoot.

After five minutes of searching, they met up again in front of the stairwell.

"Nothing on this wing."

"Me too."

"He's either upstairs, or he's long gone from here," Jeff said shining his flashlight around them.

"Not possible. We have the whole place staked out."

"So we keep moving?"

Brooke was about to reply, when there was a clatter atop of the stairs. A flashlight beam danced around for a brief moment then disappeared.

Jeff was already in motion. "Let's go!"

Brooke began to follow him, but then she stopped.

"What're you waiting for?"

"There's more than one way down. I'll watch the door in case he decides to come back down."

"If all goes well he won't get that far," Jeff replied.

"Good luck. And Jeff, make sure he's down. Put a bullet right there," Brooke said, motioning to her forehead.

Jeff turned around and started up the stairs.

Reaching the top floor, Jeff burst into the room. It was empty save for a dozen workstations with their computer monitors flickering images on screen, then going out, leaving the room in total darkness. Jeff wandered in the middle, his pistol by his side. He had tucked his flashlight in his waistband beforehand and now struggled to retrieve it.

The monitors went dim.

Total darkness.

The monitors lit up.

In the glow, Jeff saw he was surrounded by three men dressed in coveralls and ski masks. They carried knives and a stun rod between them. Electricity cackled from its prongs.

All at once, they moved in for the kill. Before Jeff had a chance to take a shot, the pistol was knocked from his hands. It clattered to the carpeted floor a ways from him.

Jeff ripped the flashlight free and smashed it across the nose of one man. He reeled back, clutching his face, breaking the circle. The man behind Jeff lunged, but Jeff darted out of the centre straight for the wounded one.

He put his weight into a push and drove the man backwards over a desk. The man dropped the knife to the ground and while he was stretched over the desk, Jeff repeatedly slammed the flashlight into the middle of his face, completely destroying the remains of his broken nose and rendering him unconscious.

The second masked man stabbed at Jeff from behind, but he managed to evade the blow. Jeff turned on his heel and pinned the man's right arm to the desk, causing him to shake free the weapon. It laid on top of the desk while Jeff held the man there, his death grip nearly shattering the man's wrist. Stunrod came after him but was repelled by a sideways kick aimed at the groin. He groaned and fell away.

Jeff kicked at the pinned attacker's knee, forcing him down, and whipped out a fist. The impact crushed the man's windpipe, and he fell to the ground. Stunrod, shaken a little, came back once more. Light sparked from the weapon's tip as he charged. Jeff's fingers fell on the hilt of the serrated knife on the desktop, and in one fluid motion, knocked aside the stunrod and buried the blade into the man's belly.

The man grunted in pain, his fingers squeezing down on the rod, causing it to continue to crackle. Jeff forcefully and slowly twisted the knife with one hand, while the other was on the stunrod. He could feel the man's grip weakening with each degree the knife turned. He forced the tip of the stunrod closer and closer to the man's face, and with some finality, he ripped the knife free and pushed the tip of the rod under the man's jaw.

It let out a loud crack and Jeff could smell burnt fabric. The man collapsed, electrified, his ski mask left with a hole burned straight through.

Jeff dropped the knife and caught his breath, looking over his handiwork. He bent over each man but found none of them were his target. As he reached for his 9-mm, he was suddenly aware there was one more man in the room with him.

His fingers curled around the handle.

The monitors lit up.

He whipped up his hand and sighted within a millesecond.

Holt held up his outstretched palms shouted, "Benson!"

He squeezed the trigger.

Outside in the parking lot, the third floor window lit up in a flash of light. There was a muffled gunshot, then silence. Brooke leaned against the hood of the car, watching quietly. Then she turned around and raised her chatter to her ear.

"It's over," she said, a grin growing on her lips. "Benson passed."

* * *

July 29/10 – Hell yeah! On a freakin' roll! Almost done with this rewrite.


	14. Chapter XIV

"Holt," Jeff rasped, breathlessly.

Andrew Holt was frozen in position. Behind him, a quarter inch from his head was the bullet hole, the 9-mm round embedded in the wood paneling.

For a minute, they stared at each other. Jeff kept his pistol raised more or less in shock, but had no intention of using it.

Then Jeff uttered, "What the hell is going on?"

Holt's eyebrows knit together. "You're actually going to ask me that? You're the one here to kill me!"

"That's not what—" Jeff stopped midsentence, and looked like he noticed what he was holding for the first time. "—the hell…? Oh my god."

"So do _you_ want to tell me what's going on?"

"I was here looking for another man. His name is… Holt. Fuck! I _am_ trying to kill you!" Jeff shook his head, trying to clear it. At the last minute, he'd realized who he was shooting at and managed to tilt the barrel away as he fired. But he never put the face and the name together before… before the man recognized him.

He studied Holt, looking for any signs the man in front of him might be lying to him. He knew Holt. They'd worked together before and had even saved each other's lives. That much he remembered. So what was he doing here?

"You're bleeding," Jeff said suddenly. Holt's forehead had a nasty looking gash and his face was bruised all over. "What happened to you?"

"They grabbed me last night. Kept me blindfolded and knocked me around a little before bringing me here."

"_Who_ they?"

Holt looked over Jeff's shoulder at the three men dressed in coveralls and ski masks. "_Them_ they. I took out one of them back there before I ran into you."

"So you're not hiding out here?"

"Jeff, why the fuck would I be hiding out in a tech support office!"

"Somebody brought you here? God dammit, they must have known." Jeff's eyes wandered to the window. It was still much too dark for anyone to see what was happening inside. "But that was you at the club?"

"I go where I can get work."

"I know, but I…"

"Shot it up and killed everyone there? Yeah, I knew it was you. Didn't know why, but three months off the grid must have had some sort of effect on you, I figured."

"Wait. Three months?"

"We looked for you after Elsley. The odds weren't good, let me tell ya. You know things are in the shitter for you when a Spartan tries to mess you up. We thought you got killed in that warehouse, but after a while I started to hear word around there was a character running around taking out different folks. Matched your description. So what did happen to you?"

"I can't tell you that. I'm still trying to figure it out, myself."

"So you've had no control over yourself for the last few months?"

"Oh I've had complete control. But I had no idea why. Shit, I still don't know why! I've been working with an organization. I was tasked with eliminating high-risk targets—insurrectionists."

"Jeff," Holt said, "they weren't close to being Innies. They were people we used to know. Hell, I don't know if you're trying to play interplanetary cop…"

"They were getting rid of my past."

Holt paused. "What?"

"They were screwing with my mind," Jeff said, his features beginning to darken. "Causing me to forget everything. Who I am. What I do. They were trying to fucking reprogram me."

"Are you sure?" Holt asked. "This is mighty unfamiliar territory I'm treading here."

"No, but I can find out."

"You can," Holt said, "but do you really want to?"

Jeff was silent for a long moment. Then he replied, "Yes."

"Or you can come with us and leave it behind you."

"They'll hunt us down like animals. Ruthless. Unrelenting. Running isn't an option, I'm afraid. For me, at least. You need to get the fuck out of here."

"Was just thinking that."

Jeff's mind snapped into action mode. "Do you know how many men there were in this office?"

"I think you took care of all of them, other than the one back there. There a backdoor I can slip out of?"

"Place is surrounded, I think. I never saw 'em, but they're out there."

Holt thought for a minute, then snapped his fingers. "Does this building have maintenance tunnels?"

"It's part of New Van building code. Every office has a basement and a way out," Jeff said, slightly surprised at his own knowledge.

"Then that's where I'm headed."

"I'll call the cops and that'll buy you a little more time, hopefully."

"One last time, you're always welcome aboard the Horton."

"Thanks for the offer, Captain," Jeff said with a grim smile. "but I know what I gotta do."

"Then Godspeed, Jeff," Holt said. He extended a hand, which Jeff promptly shook.

* * *

Jeff exited the office building and brushed past Brooke who stood expectantly with her 9-mm drawn. He slid into the car and did up his seatbelt while Brooke started up the engine. They pulled out of the parking lot, wordless. On the highway, back to the safehouse, Brooke looked across at him.

"Are you all right?"

Jeff was quiet. Then he said, "Yeah. I guess I am."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't see a need to."

"Okay, then. So, one last question," Brooke said. "Is Holt dead?"

The words rattled Jeff inside, but his stony expression didn't betray him. He calmly replied, "We'll never see him again."

After a long shuttle ride, Brooke and Jeff marched through the reception area of their Headquarters. Stencilled on the concrete wall was the heading "Facility 17 – Office of Naval Intelligence - Section III". Men and women in suits walked past them in all directions, busy heading somewhere, doing something.

Jeff couldn't help but think that it was all for show. That it was an elaborate prank and he had been fooled for the longest time. The receptionist welcomed the two back and returned to tapping away on the keyboard.

_Fake, lying bitch._

Earle was there to welcome them back in the conference room. Arms outstretched, he thundered, "Well done, Benson! Both missions were pulled off without a hitch! The New Van Police showed up before we could clean up, but I'm confident all objectives were completed."

Something was wrong here. They always needed to make sure their targets were dead, it had been no different for any other. Either having Jeff say the man was dead was part of their plan, or they were just eager to leave it be. They knew they'd failed and were trying their best to cover it up.

It wasn't working. For an operation this shadowy and precise, some form of damage control was needed. Especially if it was one of their own.

The thought made Jeff more upset than before. Even now they were playing it up for him, putting on an act. They thought he'd never suspect anything. While Earle talked, Jeff sat fuming. He nodded on cue and returned a smile when Brooke did so first throughout the briefing.

As it came to a close, Earle cleared his throat and said to Jeff. "Oh yes, and Jeff, Dr. Wells said she'd like to have a word with you. She needs you in her office as soon as possible."

"Then, best I don't keep the good doctor waiting," Jeff said and walked from the room.

After he left, Earle removed his glasses, his face hardened into a scowl. "Tell me straight."

Jeff walked down the hallway, but before he reached Wells' office. Something caught his eye. He always passed by the room before, but he never gave a shit about what was inside. But today? Today it was the only thing that mattered.

He stopped in front of the door that read "Archives and Records". Outside, two burly men armed with assault rifles stood guard. Jeff slowly bent over to take a drink from the fountain, and at the same time, making sure everyone passed through the hallway before he sprang into action.

Clear.

He took two steps sideways and lashed out with a stiff open handed chop, hitting one man's neck, immediately breaking it. Before the other guard could turn, Jeff was behind him, one arm slipped under his chin in a choke. Squeezing the air out of the man, he forced him to his knees, and once he was too weak to struggle, Jeff violently jerked his arm, killing him as well. He used one's key card to access the room and dragged both bodies inside, sealing the door behind him.

He looked around and spotted the terminal at the far side of the room. It was hooked up to backup generators and voluminous amounts of storage holding classified data. The user of this computer virtually had all of mankind's knowledge literally at his fingertips.

But he was only after one secret. A simple search brought up his personal profile.

As he read through it, it was as though he'd become a kettle. He'd reached his boiling point. There was nothing stopping him now. He scanned through the information, clicking for the next page and the next page after that. It had detailed his life as a child, the comments about him from his Primary School's instructors from years ago. ONI knew more about him than he knew about himself. He had been followed and profiled since he was still in diapers. Jeff found recorded remarks from a doctor mere minutes from the moment he was born, speculation which led to him being a candidate of the intensive screening of the SPARTAN II program.

As he dug deeper in, he finally got to the date from three months ago. There were archived video files, along with journals written by R. Wells. He activated the video file.

Wells spoke into the camera with a wide variety of medical jargon, explaining new improved procedures over those of Dr. Halsey's original plans. He paused the playback and studied the description. In it there was a linked reference. He opened that up and his eyes widened.

Before him was an image of Brooke. She sat on a couch in front of the camera. She was a much younger looking woman, with a look of innocence, even. Hell, she was just a girl at that time. She smiled and nodded when asked questions. She was shy, and a little nervous back then. The vid ended after she had committed her signature to a lengthy contract.

Jeff closed the file and opened up the next one. What he saw made him shake uncontrollably. Not out of fear, but from a fury rising deep within him. There were logged video files of what appeared to be Brooke's training as a Spartan. It wasn't what Jeff remembered on Reach. It was nothing like that. Every hour, Brooke was mercilessly beaten or tortured until she passed out from the pain. But even then she was forced to endure until she could take more. Wells appeared a few times, telling the broken girl it was to make a stronger soldier out of her. She took her in her arms more than once, but as the logs went on, Brooke became more hollow. She was a shell. She was battered, abused, and lifeless.

When she was finally at the lowest point, willing to obey any command by her superiors, they decided mental training was over. They put her under the knife, while she was too weak to do anything about it.

Slowly she healed and the scars faded over time. But they'd done it. She was the perfect soldier—even moreso than Halsey's SPARTAN IIs only because they never gave her the freedom of thinking on her own. Gradually, Wells worked to erase the trauma she'd experienced, but the damage was already done. She forgot to hate her captors, the people who did this to her, but all she remembered was she had to do whatever they willed.

He returned to his own file and hit the next video, forcing himself to press on. Wells was scrubbed and explaining to a surgical team last minute reminders. On the table lay one heavily sedated Jeff Benson. Just as Wells gloved and started to make the first incision, he shut it off. He brought up the written journals and ploughed through them. They detailed what exactly had been done to his body. Every scientific description of the violation of his body.

At the end, before he finished up, he found one last file. It was a logged conversation between Earle and Wells:

EARLE – Operative 231 (Brooke) is a masterpiece… a work of art.

WELLS – We can't do that again. I refuse.

EARLE – Did you forget you work for me, Wells? You'll do whatever the hell I tell you.

WELLS – Brooke has a high risk of suffering from resurfacing emotional trauma. It could compromise her or us, or drive her towards reckless or suicidal tendencies.

EARLE – Then we put her down IF that happens. It's as simple as that.

WELLS – She's a human being.

EARLE – I know you have a sweet spot for her, Doctor. But that needs to end. You lost the right to nurture them the moment you started cutting them open.

WELLS – (Undecipherable)

EARLE – Get off your high horse. You're as big a monster as I am.

WELLS – Then listen to me. I want to change that. I'm developing a new indoctrination process. If it works, it'll be much less harmful to the subject.

EARLE – Will it be as effective?

WELLS – I'm more than willing to give it a try. Operative 000 may be our perfect candidate. He is resilient. It will take more time to break him, if we can at all. This is the only way to go about doing this.

EARLE – Then surprise me, Doctor. I'm greenlighting Project 000. You'll have the signed paperwork tomorrow morning.

Jeff shut it off. He shut it all off. He had everything he needed to know. He had enough.

He walked to the door, feeling a little more broken than he did before. Before he could get there, it swished open and a woman walked in. She was in her late thirties, had her hair pulled back in a bun, and wore severe looking glasses. By the time she saw Jeff, the door had closed behind her.

She dropped her clipboard and pressed her back up against the wall while Jeff ambled forward. She wore scrubs and had on a nametag Jeff recognized from a video he watched. One of Wells' lackeys.

"Stay back," she said, trying to squeeze herself into the wall. "Please."

Jeff kept coming forward.

Her eyes darted around the room until she spotted the alarm system to put the whole operation on high alert. She placed a hand on top of the lever and shrieked, "Not another step! Or I'll pull the alarm and let everyone know you're here!"

Jeff stopped right in front of her and said, "You do that, lady."

"I will!" Her hand trembled. "They'll find you and kill you!"

"That's good for them. But not for you," Jeff growled. "Because after seeing what sick shit you twisted, messed up people have been up to, I don't give a _fuck_."

With that, his arm shot out and slammed her head into the back of the wall. Her hand nudged the alarm and the sirens began to blare. He didn't know if she was dead, but the gash in the back of her head left a bloody mark on the concrete wall. He tossed her by the other two guards lying on the floor.

He retrieved a sidearm from one of the guards and made sure it was loaded. He only needed a couple of bullets to do the job. After that, he couldn't care less about what happened to him.

Jeff exited the Archives and Records room while people ran down the hallway looking to get to safety while armed guards stormed up and down looking for a threat. Jeff kept the pistol concealed while they ran past him. He wandered past the receptionist's desk, now vacant. Overhead, sirens flashed, flooding the room with red pulsing light. He proceeded down another hallway while chaos happened all around him.

He reached the conference room. His fingers tightened around the handle of his gun.

Earle sipped from his coffee mug while Brooke watched the guards run past the room, a team stopping outside. Earle muttered, "I didn't order any drills, though."

Earle noticed Jeff for the first time. "You're back from Wells' already?"

Brooke turned to him in surprise. "Jeff, do you know what's going on?

Jeff's eyes were fixated on Earle. "I do, actually."

"What's happening?"

"Nothing's happened," Jeff said, thumbing the safety and bringing the pistol in plain view, "yet."

"Jeff, no!" Brooke couldn't stop him if she tried. He raised the gun and squeezed off as many shots as he could. Earle took each round, shuddering as they tore into his body. He had attempted to throw himself backwards, but no human being could avoid even one bullet. Not at that range. His momentum carried him all the way through the glass wall of the conference room, shattering it and falling in a heap on the concrete ground, dead. He didn't even twitch as his life drained out of him.

The guards outside heard the noise. They stormed into the room with their rifles raised, all sights dead on Jeff Benson and his smoking pistol.

Brooke yelled, "Hold your fire!"

But as one man's finger began to apply the slightest bit of pressure on the trigger, Brooke snatched up her own sidearm from her holster and turned it on the guards. In the span of two seconds, she carefully put a round in every guard's brain, quickly and cleanly. Jeff was still staring at Earle's body, then he turned to face Brooke.

Not wasting any time, Brooke threw aside her spent weapon and grabbed Jeff. She roughly hauled him into the air and tossed him through the glass conference table. It exploded in a hail of glass in every direction as Jeff's bulk carried him to the ground. Brooke pounced on top of him and began to pound the shit out of him. She hissed in his ear, "You should have taken the shot!"

He blocked her blows and threw her off him with a kick to her midsection. Wordlessly, he snatched up his pistol and moved to exit the room. But Brooke was already on her feet and halfway across the floor. She leaped at Jeff's back, but as she latched on he whirled around in a swift motion, propelling her into the other wall. She cried out as it blew apart upon impact and the shards bit into her skin.

Jeff paused momentarily. Brooke went right back in, taking one quick step forward. Jeff moved to push her away again, but Brooke came in low and fired upward with a stiff jab aimed at his heart. To a normal man, the blow would have broken through the sternum and crushed the life-giving organ from the sheer force behind it.

Jeff reeled back, unsteady on his feet. He felt his surgically augmented heart skip a beat or two. He felt out of breath, his lungs working extra hard to keep up with him. He couldn't have fought back if he tried.

Brooke took two seconds, formulating the quickest way to take him down. Still clutching, his chest, fighting for air, Jeff was helpless to do anything when Brooke executed her moves. She lashed out with a kick to the knee, bending it unnaturally. He wobbled, trying to find balance. She whipped around and fired off an uppercut to the man's jaw. He staggered and weakly swung back. Brooke caught his arm, pulled him in, and with an open palm dislocated his shoulder with a loud gut wrenching pop.

Jeff didn't even have time to yell out before Brooke's fingers slammed into his throat and brought him to the ground. His arm flopped uselessly by his side, blood dripping from gashes on his face, nostrils, and from his lips. On Elsley, Jeff still had the basics of human anatomy. Brooke had been very restrained in the warehouse. Today she had not held back. Her fingers tightened on his throat, her nails digging in his skin.

"We were almost finished, Jeff," she growled. "Why did you do it? Why!"

Jeff couldn't reply if he wanted to. He held onto her wrist with one hand, but he knew from previous experience that never worked.

"Brooke!" Wells called with a sense of urgency in her voice. Brooke kept her hand exactly where it was but whipped her head to face the doctor. She was bent over Earle, feeling for a pulse. Finding none she stood and cautiously walked towards the two. She spoke quietly, "It's over."

Jeff released his hand from Brooke's wrist and painfully reached for his handgun lying a metre away. There was still one round left. One more target left.

His fingertips brushed the barrel. He felt like he was going to pass out before he could finish the job. Vomit threatened to spill out of his gut and force its way into his mouth. He strained for the pistol, but Brooke finally removed her hand from his neck and stopped his arm from moving. She continued to stare straight into his eyes, daring him to make a move.

"It's finished." Wells put a hand on Brooke's shoulder. She kneeled over Jeff and said gently, "We're finished."

* * *

TO: UNDISCLOSED RECIPIENT

DATED 2537/27/10

START FILE/

By now you have heard the news: Project 000 has been aborted. Has it ended in failure? That's subjective. It depends on the changing mission parameters. You and I both know they are always changing. 000 never completed his primary task. And thus, he failed to become an Operative like the previously successful Operative 231. We couldn't control him, and that is why the project "failed".

Upon investigation of the now-defunct Facility 17, you will find Director Sean Earle dead. It is vital you must find that he had gone rogue, and thus needed to be terminated from his position. Files are attached to support this grim conclusion.

But I am still alive. Though the project is dead, the subject is still very much alive. We can start again, perfect our technique. That's the inherent beauty of the design. As soon as the investigation is over, tell Ackerson I will be joining him on Onyx shortly and all has gone according to plan. My research will undoubtedly aid in the development of his new undertaking.

As for Operative 231 and Subject 000, regarding location, that information can be revealed to no one. It is safer for everyone in the long run. But I can assure you this: they will not be seen for an indefinite amount of time. They'll be brought back when they are needed.

/NEW COMMAND LINE/ Purge any evidence of this file from your onboard memory banks after you are through with it.

FROM: R. WELLS

/END FILE

Wells tapped the send key. She glanced around at the cryo lab and got up. She powered down her pad and came up alongside Brooke. The woman stared into the metal casket at the sleeping form. Jeff lay in the gel bed, resting comfortably. His wounds had been treated and he had been given heavy sedatives. The last thing he would remember was lying on the floor with Earle dead and Wells standing over him.

Brooke reached in and stroked his hand. His skin was already beginning to cool, his body temperature lowering for the freezing process.

"We need to talk," Wells said. Brooke walked alongside her, listening intently. "Project 000 has come to a close."

"I thought so. Was it on me? Something I did?" Brooke asked, looking at the doctor.

"No. You performed admirably. Perhaps we were too ambitious."

Brooke's eyes wandered to the tube. "He's strong. Stubborn." She smiled as she said this.

Wells turned to face her. "Are you ready for your next assignment?"

Brooke nodded. "Whatever you need."

"It's going to be your toughest by far."

"I'm ready," Brooke told her, her voice unwavering. Wells gave her a smile and touched her arm. She'd come a long way since the frightened, tearful girl huddled in the centre of the room. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to wait."

"What?"

"Your skills are unmatched in the field, Brooke. But your talents aren't needed just yet. It's the end of a generation. I need you prepared for the next one."

Brooke sighed and asked, "Where do you need me?"

Wells said, "I need to leave for a while. But there is someone who needs you. You're right where I want you to be."

"But Doctor…"

"What do I do when it's time to wake him up, Brooke? You need to be there for him. Be there for me," Wells told her.

After a moment, Brooke said softly, "I understand."

Wells took her hand and led her over to a second tube where she undressed and climbed in. Brooke looked at her and asked, "How long am I going to be here for?"

Wells entered in a command on the keypad. She paused. "I can't tell you, Brooke. But when you wake up, I'll be there for you."

Brooke closed her eyes and mumbled something, but Wells caught it. She squeezed her hand and hit the control. The door began to lower over Brooke's form.

Wells stood back and whispered, "Good night."

* * *

July 29/10 – Stayed up late to get as far as I could then passed out before the end. But it's done and ready to ship out.

The story actually ends at this chapter for the rewrite, since it ties up everything I introduced in the new rewrites. But since I needed to end it at 16 chapters, the last two round off the story so that if you ever followed the original, you can hop right back into it without reading my completely changed plot.


	15. Chapter XV

His lungs burned, and he gasped for air—but the restricting hands clamped around his neck like a vise grip were unforgiving.

Robbed of sight, he continued to struggle with his invisible attacker. The lack of oxygen was exhausting him, and he felt his limbs turn to jelly. He tried to pry the tightening grip from his throat, but it was no use. He could feel his breaths quicken as he fought for life.

Klaxons blared. The lights pulsed, bathing the cool grey room in an angry red.

Brooke's eyes shot open.

Standing over her she saw a face she knew she recognized. She looked older, signs of age evident on her weary face. Her hair had been died a dark red, but grey strands were poking out here and there, evading the hair clip holding in place an stylish knot in place. She wore a dark jacket and pantsuit, something which struck Brooke as odd to see.

"Doctor Wells?" she mumbled sleepily. It shocked her to realize how long it had taken to recall the name. "Is something wrong?"

Wells scanned the monitor for any anomalies but everything seemed to check out. She gave Brooke a visible up and down and reached in to help her up.

"Brooke, we need to leave."

"Why? What's happening?" Brooke climbed out of the cryo tube and collapsed onto the cold ground. She struggled to get back to her feet with limited use of her extremities, like a child learning how to walk. Wells got to a knee and draped a towel over her bare shoulders. Brooke looked around the room with a wild look on her face. It was not the same room she had fallen asleep in.

"It's time," Wells said, lightly rubbing life back into the woman's stiff muscles. "The situation is bad."

"Where are we?" Brooke asked. She looked at the aged Wells once more. "_When_ are we?"

She helped Brooke to her feet and told her, "Reach, 2552."

Brooke nearly lost her balance again. She stood on unsteady legs, knees buckling. "I thought you were going to be gone for… months at the most." Her eyes widened, the realization sinking in.

"I know," Wells said quietly. "I'm sorry. But even now… this is ahead of schedule."

"You wanted to keep me in there longer?"

Wells pursed her lips, almost ashamed. "Yes."

"I've never questioned you before, Doctor," Brooke said, "but I think I deserve answers."

"Without a doubt," Wells said. "But now's not the time."

"Then let's start there. What's the situation?"

"The Covenant are here." Wells gave it to her with no punches pulled.

Brooke audibly gasped. "And we're on Reach? We're on humanity's central military hub! What the hell have we been doing all this time?"

"Losing," Wells said with a shake of her head. "You've been out of the loop for a while now, but the Covenant forces have broken past the defense platforms in orbit above the planet, the fleet is beginning its evacuation of all military personnel left. Those staying behind are here to exact damage control, but the bottom line is, we're running. That includes us, Brooke."

Brooke mulled it over then finally nodded. "What's the plan?"

"Do you remember how to use MJOLNIR armour?"

She stared at the suit of armour behind the Doctor and rubbed her arms. "Last I remember it was a prototype. But I'll make it work." She walked to the massive suit and ran her fingers over the iridescent metal plates.

"There are a few new additions you should be aware of. I need you suited and ready while I get working on our old friend."

Brooke glanced at the other cryo pod. She'd almost forgotten.

He thrashed about in the pitch black nothingness, but found no one. He opened his mouth to scream, but could only make gagging noises. His head was about to split open, he was sure. He could fight no longer. He was about to go limp and let his unseen enemy finish him off.

It would be over, soon.

Air suddenly flowed into Jeff's chest. He inhaled deeply then quickly exhaled, looking forward to the next gulp of precious fresh air. It was tinged with a metallic odour. He'd never thought about that before.

The harsh light flooded his eyelids for the first time. He blinked rapidly clearing the film from his eyes. Shapes moved above him, peering down. He started to say something, but his throat felt it had been crushed.

Then he remembered.

Their faces came into plain sight. Brooke on top of him, slowly killing him, while the doctor stood by, watching. The doctor moved her mouth, saying something he couldn't make out.

Despite the tenderness of his skin after the thaw and the stiffness of his unused muscles, he had one single thought in mind.

_One more target._

With a growl he lunged from the tube at the doctor, his arms outstretched like claws.

The added speed from the MJOLNIR Mark V armour launched Brooke into action, stopping Jeff in mid-jump. His legs screamed in protest and the rest of his body followed suit, failing him. Brooke held onto his waist while he collapsed into her arms in an awkward looking embrace. After a moment, Brooke lowered him to the ground and rested his back against the pod.

He attempted to move his arms and legs, much like Brooke had earlier, Wells noted. They both had fight in them yet. Brooke laid a firm, gauntleted hand on Jeff's shoulder holding him still.

"Calm down, Jeff," Brooke urged. "It's all right."

"You goddamn bitch!" Jeff managed, glaring at Wells and breathing hard. "What the hell did you do?"

"I've kept you frozen in storage for an extended period of time," Wells answered. "It's now 2552."

"What!" Jeff exploded. Brooke caressed the underside of his face as if to calm him down, but he clumsily knocked her arm aside. "Don't go anywhere near there."

Brooke pulled back. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I've been having the same dream for fifteen fucking years, that's what's wrong!" Jeff looked at Wells. "Lady, when I'm up and walking, you'd better start running."

"Jeff, we don't have time for this," Brooke said.

"Oh I think you'd want to hear this. You don't want anything to do with this fucking butcher."

"Jeff…" Wells began, her eyes wide.

"What do you remember from when you were a kid? Birthday parties? Your first bicycle? 'Cause I don't think you would. Do you remember a scared little girl tied down to a dank basement floor? In a room with no sunlight, all the days bleeding together? All the beatings were the same?"

Wells looked away.

"They tortured you, Brooke," Jeff said, his voice hard. "They broke you."

Brooke was silent. Then, "I know."

"You… know?"

She turned to face Wells and whispered, "I always have."

"And you're still her pet. Why?"

She thought long before she answered, "Because she made me the woman I am today. I learned to shut up and live with it." She took a deep breath. "Which is something you should look into doing."

"No." Jeff shook his head. "No. I can't accept that."

"Well you're just going to have to!" Brooke snapped. "Shit is coming down around our heads so you need to shut the fuck up for once and listen."

Jeff glowered but held his tongue.

"The Covenant have made it to Reach," Wells repeated.

Brooke inspected her gloved hands. "Are we supposed to help out the Corps?"

"Actually," Wells said, "we're leaving. I've got a way out, but it'll require a bit of firepower."

"Count me out. I'm not going anywhere with you," Jeff spat. "There's the whole trust issue I can't seem to get behind. I'm sure you understand."

"Please," Brooke said, "Jeff, we need you."

"I'm sure the good doctor can find a fresh bunch of newborn babies to murder all by herself."

His words had no effect on Wells at all. She said, "I'm not sure you realize what's going on here. Reach is about to _fall_! Once that happens, there's nothing standing between it and Earth. The Navy has been severely crippled in the fight. Spartans were deployed in order to create a last-ditch defense effort but the reports I'm hearing aren't very favourable at all. The situation is fucked."

"You don't get it. I'm done. There's nothing left for me." Jeff cast a look at Brooke and muttered, "You should have finished the job the last time."

"That's enough _bullshit_. Your life isn't a rose garden. I get that. But I will not stand by and allow you to become a useless, mopey, sack of shit," Brooke nearly shouted at him. "I don't care what you feel at this point. You've been wronged by someone in this room? I don't think so. I'm standing right here next to you so you don't _ever_ get to say that again. This whiny, pathetic 'I'm so hurt!' isn't you, Jeff. You're a survivor. So do what you do best. Now, me and you might not be on the best of terms, but after we're free and clear, there's going to be no one stopping you from walking. I certainly won't."

Wells started to object, but one glare from Brooke shut her up.

"So get your ass up and get suited."

Jeff let her biting words sink in. Then he offered her his hand. She pulled him up and he said, "Onward to freedom, then."

Thirty minutes later, Wells and Brooke had fitted him with the MJOLNIR suit. He paced back and forth, testing it out, feeling its fluidity in motion.

"Try moving your arms some more," Wells suggested. "Now chin the control in your helmet to activate the shield."

Electricity popped around Jeff's suit. He tested it out some more, with more walking and jumping.

"You want to change the settings to increase traction on your boots and gloves. Open up the menu and find the option that says…"

"Doc, I don't got a lot of patience, and I don't exactly like you. I'd cut to the chase. Now."

Brooke watched them in the centre of the room, then returned to fiddling with a battle rifle. She fed in a new mag and adjusted the sights. She shouldered its weight, trying to get a feel for it. An M90 shotgun lay beside her fully loaded, an empty box of shells and its packaging tossed on the floor. She looked over an MA5 rifle, making sure it was in working condition. Loaded inside was a full magazine of shredder rounds, perfect for tearing through mobs of aliens. With its high rate of fire, the MA5 was ideal for crowd control.

Finally they were ready to go. Brooke tossed Jeff the assault rifle while she hefted the M90 and slung the rifle over her shoulder.

Wells said, "Come with me to the vehicle bay. We're going to need to get to the extraction point at the double. But first," Wells paused, and then hit the switch to the warehouse doors. "My AI will take care of the rest—this place is going to be locked up tight."

"Where exactly are we?" Jeff asked, looking around.

"Classified training facility. It hasn't been used in a while, and it's kind of a ways from the beaten path. Perfect for cold storage." Jeff couldn't tell if that was a joke or not.

The three proceeded down the hallway and a quick pace. Brooke held her rifle at the ready, and Jeff with his MA5.

"Contact, around this next bend—they're in the foyer. These guys must've come in here looking for a fight," Brooke announced in a low whisper.

"Well, fuck. I don't know what I'm doing," Jeff replied, "I've never fought these guys before."

"Point and shoot and don't miss," Brooke advised. "Doctor, I need you to stay well behind us. Okay, on my mark, we move in."

"What a well thought out and interesting plan."

"Two… one… mark!"

In unison, both Spartans entered the room and took in the situation a split-second before they opened fire. There were three elites, one crimson and two blue armoured ones; and roughly a squad of seven grunts, topped off with two jackals. Brooke had given Jeff a quick primer on the different enemy types he would be seeing beforehand.

Brooke brought her shotgun to her chest, aimed at the nearest blue elite a foot away from her, and quickly squeezed the trigger. The eight-gauge shell tore through the elite's shielding and flesh. The corpse flew backwards, and hit the wall, leaving a splatter of fresh alien blood—one down. She pumped the broomstick, and turned to the rest.

Jeff had run into the room, gun blazing, expending dozens of rounds into the surprised aliens. Five grunts flopped to the ground, one's methane tank ruptured and hissing gas. He'd even managed to take down a Jackal who'd found something on the wall so fascinating, it had its back turned to him. The remaining grunts were taken out by a single blast from Brooke. The remaining bullets in Jeff's MA5 were spent on the Jackal's energy shield. They harmlessly pinged off the brilliant blue cover. His rifle went dry, but the Jackal stood unfazed.

"What the fuck!" Jeff ducked into an alcove as the alien returned fire. Plasma slashed through the air and smouldered into the wall by Jeff's head.

"Keep shooting!" Brooke urged, pumping shell after shell. Jeff returned fire blindly, all rounds in the magazine hitting their mark. Then the shield overheated and gave out. The unprotected alien was ripped to pieces by another M90 shell. Now, they had to concentrate on the elites.

Jeff quickly fed a fresh magazine into his gun. Both the aliens and Spartans circled each other, guns at the ready. The Elites hadn't fired, waiting for the humans to either get killed by the lower ranking Covenant, or they showed weakness.

Brooke and Jeff, as if a signal was sent to both their brains, dove to their sides as the Elites opened fire, cutting through the air with plasma. Bullets deflected off of the alien's shields, and others pockmarked the walnut paneling.

The blue elite took this moment to charge at the two, while the more experienced crimson elite stayed back. Brooke saw this, and tossed her own shotgun to Jeff. He sidestepped the overzealous elite, caught the shotgun in one hand, and turned it on the alien. It ate the load of buckshot, running straight into the cone of fire. Another elite was out of the fight.

Jeff stepped forward at the remaining elite, firing off and pumping his gun. The elite took each shot in the chest, and was driven backwards, his shield shrugging off each blast. As Jeff squeezed the trigger to deliver the finishing round, the Shotgun clicked—empty. Thinking impulsively, he swung the butt of the gun at the alien's head. It rang with a metallic _clank!_ As the elite rose, reaching for an angular handle by his waist, a shot rang out from the other side of the room. The elite's head exploded in a spray of blood and it fell over backwards, dead.

Brooke examined her BR55 with admiration, and set the rate of fire to burst. Jeff discarded the empty shotgun and began to move towards the exit. Wells caught up with the Spartans, and the three began to jog towards the garage.

Sounds of battle could still be heard coming from down in the valley—the Covenant were trying to take out the generators, Wells had explained. She'd also reminded him that helping those marines weren't important.

On the count of three, both Spartans kicked in the side door and entered the motor pool. A smaller group of Covenant milled about—nothing of a serious threat here. Jeff sprang forward and stepped off to the side to allow room for his partner. He let off controlled bursts, the elite taking every round in the face. It fell to the concrete ground as its shielding gave away in an impressive display of cackling energy.

Brooke fired off two bursts—six rounds spent, and four grunts fell. They waited cautiously, for any more movement. Satisfied they were alone, his eyes rested on a working M12 LRV or "Warthog". He hadn't had too much practice with heavy-duty military vehicles, but he was up to the challenge. He safed his assault rifle and threw it into the vehicle, flexing his fingers.

"This mean you're driving?" Brooke asked, a heavy amount of doubt in her voice.

"I'll get us there in one piece," he retorted. Then he added, "Well, two of us, maybe."

Brooke and the doctor exchanged worried glances—or at least, what Wells interpreted from the MJOLNIR armour.

Brooke climbed into the back of the 'hog, and crouched down low.

"If you see something on the road, don't be afraid to use it," Jeff told her, referring to the massive LAAG chain gun mounted to the truck bed. Jeff had already started the engine.

"Just keep it steady, okay?"

Jeff rolled out of the garage and into the compound. Vehicles that were decommissioned and missing components littered the fenced off area. Beyond it was the outdoor training grounds for the rest of the classified facility.

"Get low," he said and put her into a straight path out of there. The large tires bit into the dirt and gravel and the vehicle rocketed forward. It smashed through the flimsy chain-link fence and kept rolling. He muttered something that Wells interpreted as "fuck fences".

* * *

July 30/10 – Kept most of the battle scene, changed armaments. This should lead right into the next chapter, the one you haven't seen before! All new content! Hope you enjoy reading the end!

…Ahh, who am I kidding? It's gonna suck. That's why I haven't released it for this long. Five years, baby! I haven't learned a thing.


	16. Chapter XVI

Author's note – As the final chapter crawls to a close, I feel I should put something important here. Everybody's probably forgotten about this fic or they just don't give a damn any more, and I don't blame 'em. But I can say with some finality, this is it. This is the big one. Spartan 000 has come to a close. Thank you for sticking through it.

* * *

The lone elite and his squad of bungling grunts trudged through the training grounds, searching for survivors to kill. It raised its rifle, and glanced around warily. The smaller aliens impatiently fidgeted with their methane tanks and looked expectantly at the leader.

As he heard the whine of a human vehicle, he snapped his head to the left, in the general direction of the noise. But it was too late—the metallic green of the warthog was the last thing it ever saw. The driving force plowed into the elite's chest, throwing the lifeless corpse back a few metres.

The tires squealed as Jeff drifted to a halt. A burst from Brooke's chain gun finished the last of them. Jeff put the vehicle at a steady pace, and performed a sharp right—then a left. The vehicle cut through a section of various buildings. The entire complex was quite large, almost like a small town.

Wells' knuckles were white, fastened to the side of her seat. She ordered shakily, "Okay, right, go… right. Now left. Left!" Jeff was a smooth driver, but even in the heavily armoured vehicle, she felt her bones rattle as she was thrown back and forth.

Once in a while, he'd take both hands off the wheel, reaching for his magnum sidearm, like he was a stunt driver, causing the doctor to snap at him. Even Brooke bent her knees slightly, as if to hide behind the massive gun, like it would protect her. This annoyed Jeff just a little, but he drove on.

Before they came to the edge of the entire military grounds, they'd cleared an entire path and left a trail of smoking, bullet-ridden bodies. It still wasn't enough. Covenant troops were still pouring into the area. They'd maybe managed to clear two eighths of the entire force. This wasn't including the entire army which had landed on Reach. Wells squinted and spotted the gatehouse up ahead.

"Jeff, stop there. We have to find a way to hack into the system to open—"

"No time." The Spartan's answer was brief. And at the same time, it told the doctor exactly what was happening.

Her eyes widened, and she shrunk lower into her seat, trying to brace for impact. Brooke stared at the back of Jeff's head.

"Jeff, we should talk about this. I know we have a lot of unresolved issues…"

"Another time. Maybe if we survive this," Jeff said, his brow knitted.

The speedometer was rising fast. 90 km, 100, 110… Jeff gritted his teeth and floored the 'hog. Today was the day he found out how much damage this beast could take. He didn't bother swerving to avoid a plasma bolt, which smashed into their tail light, shattering the bulb; he needed all the momentum he could conjure up. Another bolt slashed through the air, a centimeter away from Brooke's face, but she didn't dare turn around to return fire. She got low and pressed her thigh under the LAAG's mount, securing herself in the bed.

The gate was getting bigger by the second. It was comprised of basic chain-link—however, reinforced with a sheet of Titanium-A "battle plate" armour. If the damned jeep would stop fish-tailing for a second, Jeff would aim straight for the iron rods which made up the frame. That would hopefully bust it open. If not, their ride would be totaled, they would all hurt pretty bad and if Wells couldn't break the gates electronically, they'd be trapped. Then again, Wells might actually be dead, were that the case.

Jeff forced himself to laugh. This might have been the stupidest thing he ever attempted, or if all of them lived, it would have been the smartest. He bent eagerly over the steering wheel. This was it.

There was a smash of impact, then the shriek of distressed metal, then all at the same time, the _clang_ of plating snapping off and flying outwards. Jeff's head snapped back, ramming his skull into the back of his seat. There was no headrest, so it wasn't quite a comfy ride out. But the speed he had picked up had done the trick. The warthog shot through the now twisted pieces of gate. The thick, solid warthog was now scratched and dented in a dozen places. Headlights, hubcaps, and even a bumper had fallen off. The engine began to belch out black smoke, overworked and most likely rattled out of position, but he paid no attention. He allowed himself a smile, and looked over his shoulder. It should be smooth sailing from here on.

Jeff gunned the warthog down the trail. He sensed both of the passengers loosen up. But they weren't exactly out of the woods just yet. The extraction point was just outside the kill zone—ten miles swarming with the entire fucking Covenant armada.

Wells had mapped out a route which took a compromise of safety and speed. Jeff glanced at the Nav marker his HUD now showed and put the warthog at a steady pace. Reach was being overrun almost everywhere, but Wells took a path straight through the woods away from the major hotspots.

"We'll take the road which goes along the river and passes near the generators," Wells told Jeff over the roar of the engine and the leaves and branches slapping the windshield with noisy cracks.

Jeff's eyebrow shot up, and he took his eyes off the road to shoot a look at the doctor. "The generator? The same one which powers the MAC guns in orbit?"

"The same one the Covenant are gunning for?" Brooke had gotten off the LAAG for fear of low-flying branches and was crouched behind the drivers' and passengers' seats.

"The same place that's most likely the hottest combat zone on the entire planet? Excuse me for saying, Doc, but that kind of takes the whole sneaky getaway thing to a bit of a miss, doesn't it?" Jeff steered through the winding path, stomping on the accelerator to move through the thick mud. They were almost at the edge of the woods.

"Possibly," Wells turned to the two Spartans and said, "but with any luck, the Covenant haven't reached it yet. We're quite deep in friendly territory. If that's a risk I'm willing to take, I'll put my life, as well as yours, down on it."

And with that, the road in front of them promptly exploded in a flash of fiery plasma, causing Jeff to swerve and run completely off the path. He swore as he struggled to control the beast as it tore downhill, smashing through bushes and small trees. As he did his best to avoid the larger obstacles and slow down, the warthog spun almost ninety degrees, putting the left-rear end of the vehicle into the thick trunk of a tree. It tore off a large chunk of the oak and put a deep dent into the warthog's armoured side. It was where Brooke sat just a second ago and she glared at the back of Jeff's armoured head, her mouth hanging open. But the vehicle continued its rapid descent down the mountainside, taking all the vegetation with it.

Suddenly, the warthog struck a low boulder and soared through the air, then landed with a jarring _crunch!_ Jeff was finally able to drift to a sudden stop, throwing his passengers forward. For a moment, the three were still, breathing heavily and silent.

Jeff began to laugh in relief, causing a slight smile out of Wells. But Brooke glanced out into the sky and swore. Jeff looked up and his eyes widened. He quickly slid out of the drivers' seat, followed by Brooke who held on to Wells' arm, pulling her forward. Jeff got under Wells' other arm, and the Spartans ran as fast as they could with the doctor dangling in between. A moment later, the warthog exploded into pieces of flaming metal as a plasma mortar dropped from the sky and scored a perfect hit. What was once their ride was now half-melted metal and in about a hundred pieces, too.

Wells' face fell in disbelief, as did Jeff and Brooke. The planet was being swarmed, and there was no way they could make it to the extraction point on time. But they didn't have too much time to think, as the sounds of battle drifted closer, and they took off towards friendly lines.

Once they reached the clearing, they saw a number of newly constructed bunkers surround a set of buildings which were obviously the generators. The Covenant knew it too, and were already attacking in full force, wave by wave. The battle was only starting, and dead Covenant littered the grounds. The marines inside the bunkers seemed to be all right, gunning down any alien who came into view. Another large wave was already advancing on the defensive position. The three would be found sooner or later, so the only safe place would be the bunkers.

Brooke lifted her rifle and checked it over. Jeff had his assault rifle, and leaned forward, ready to sprint.

"Run straight for the bunker and keep Wells in between us. Pick off a few if you can," Brooke told Jeff, "You take point. When I say…"

She primed a grenade and lobbed it into the middle of the Covenant forces. The ones who were too late to dive out of the way were blown to bits. Brooke patted Jeff on the shoulder then calmly began to pick off the rising aliens and follow the other Spartan. Jeff sprayed the area with his MA5, while side-stepping to allow Wells greater cover. When the dust cleared leaving an elite and four very confused jackals, the marines' powerful machine guns made short work of the aliens.

Brooke remained outside to cover the exits while Jeff and the doctor entered the nearest bunker. Inside, the marines paused momentarily to take in the sight of MJOLNIR armour. Jeff ignored this and told Wells to start planning an alternate route out, then turned to find a ranking officer.

Outside there was about a company's worth of men, taking cover behind a row of sandbags or sitting in forward fox holes all over the field. Beside a brace-mounted machine gun was a marine who peered intently through a pair of field glasses. His face was deepened to a scowl while the cigarette in his mouth glowed. His FOF tag read BUCKMAN, LT. Just the man Jeff needed. When he got down on one knee to speak to the lieutenant, the officer removed his cigarette from his mouth, but continued to stare through the glasses. Yet, he knew Jeff was there.

"Covie bastards… Just throwing scraps our way. I can see those sons of bitches on the other side of the hill. They got ghosts, hunters and everything." Buckman finally lowered the glasses and glanced at Jeff and asked, "You here to help us or you come to watch the show?"

Jeff shook his head and straightened his body. "No… sir," he added instinctively. He said, "I've come to ask you how the situation was."

Buckman spat and looked over to the battlefield again. "Those guys aren't even trying. They're seeing how long we can last out. But every second we hold, we blow a dozen of their ships outta the sky. I think they're waiting on reinforcements or something. I don't know about the rest of the planet, but what matters is the generator."

Jeff pursed his lips. This was going to be a tricky escape… but of course, he couldn't let the lieutenant know. He nodded slowly and told him, "Maybe we can flank them before they get a chance to mobilize—catch them on the unawares. Get 'em up close."

Buckman thought this over. "I wouldn't have attempted it because we didn't have the manpower to do it before. But with two Spartans? Maybe this can work after all."

"We're not…exactly… uh… yeah, we can kick some ass," Jeff said awkwardly.

"…All right. Then let's do it. You're coming up with me. Give me a second to assemble the assault team. Forty marines, no more, no less." With that, Buckman got to his feet and rallied up any willing volunteers while Jeff made his way back to Wells.

"I'm trying to raise them on the COMM," she explained. "It's not easy. I suggest working with the marines for the time being while I get this sorted out."

"Then I'll go with Buckman. Brooke will stay here with you."

The team had fanned out and moved through the forest. Buckman stood and pointed forward. "The Covenant aren't hitting us too hard, and I assume they're sleeping all the way down there. So, it's up to us to wake them. I was thinking of a 'good-morning' air strike, but you all could probably think of a better plan. Let's move it up!"

Buckman looked at Jeff. "Just one Spartan?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Jeff shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave. "I'm twice the man she is."

The Spartan stepped over a thick tree root, quietly tapping his rifle against the palm of his hand to the beat in his head. He wanted this to be over and done so he could get off Reach before the Covenant glassed the whole damn place.

"Lieutenant Buckman!" a female marine called out and jogged forward. Buckman put the soldiers at a halt and strode forward to talk to the marine. Jeff also made his way over, but paused as he saw who it was.

"I just got word from Torres back at the generator. The Covies are starting to move up now, and they don't have the manpower to hold out."

"That means our surprise raid won't have any effect."

"Not if they're not there," she agreed.

"Right. That means we should strike here and now."

Jeff decided to interrupt. "That sounds like a good plan. I recommend coordinating with the men back at the generator to strike the Covenant assault force." Seeing Buckman turn back to the marine, Jeff quickly called out, "Private, get on the radio to Torres and HighCom."

Buckman motioned for the rest of the team to stay put as he talked with Hill. Jeff watched the officer, then turned his attention to the marine behind him. "Now, I want you to… Jen!"

Jen Wilson stared at him with a blank look and cocked her head quizzically. "Yes sir?"

He didn't know why he remembered her. Fifteen years later, she was still just as striking as the day he met her. It felt like a lifetime ago. He reached for his helmet and began, "It's me, Je—"

Then he stopped. She couldn't remember him. He wasn't even sure she wanted to remember him. Their time together was much too brief.

He was a different person.

She probably didn't care.

Jeff continued looking at her, then asked, "What are you doing, Private?"

"Standing by. Where do you need me?"

"Right where you are is fine," Jeff said hastily. "So what are you doing on Reach? I mean, how'd you end up here?"

"My unit came in for a little R&R, sir. Too bad the Covies came to crash the party, huh?"

Jeff let out a chuckle. He cleared his throat and looked away. Jen smiled warmly at him. "Who said Spartans don't have a sense of humour?"

"I'm sure they're all very hilarious underneath their helmets," Jeff replied. "I hear they're evacuating military personnel. You draw the short straw?"

"Actually, no," Jen said. "Everyone here volunteered to stay behind, to keep the defense platforms running. To give the evacuees a chance when they exit atmo."

"But... you're throwing your life away," Jeff accidentally let slip. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out right."

"It's a fair point," she said with a frown. "But I've come to terms already. People die in this war. If I'm going to be added to that number, then whatever happens will happen. Just take the time I got left and make use of it."

Jeff looked away and said quietly, "You have a very definite outlook on life."

"I do okay by it, you know? You don't argue with what can be, you deal with what is."

"Yeah."

"So there's a good chance I won't see the end of this, right? Whatever. All I can do is hope it'll be quick. But even then…" She paused.

"You have to deal with what is," Jeff finished for her.

"Yeah."

They sat together in silence, watching the rest of the marines. Buckman was still figuring out how to use his headset.

"You seen a lot of this in your time? As a Spartan?" Jen asked.

Jeff thought for a moment, then told her, "It gets pretty rough when you get down to it. But hey, I've seen even worse. You're doing fine, Private."

"Good to know," she said to herself. "What goes into the program?"

"What?"

"How does one become a Spartan?"

"Genes, bad luck, and a credible reference," Jeff told her. "Why do you ask?"

"Years back on Arcturei, my squad was pinned down by a shitload of Covies. Just when I thought, this is the end, this is what's happening now… they swooped in and saved us. I'll never forget the moment they charged the fixed positions like something out of folklore, or fairytales."

"This is starting to sound like one."

"I heard about them before, but to witness them up close? It takes the respect to a whole new level. If the outfit wasn't so secretive, I think I would have wanted to join up."

For once, Jeff didn't offer his input. He simply nodded.

"I just like the idea of helping out anyone whenever they need it. And boy do we need help," Jen said. "They just do so much for us. Those are the people we need to build statues for, not tyrants, cowards with silver tongues. So on behalf of the everyone still alive," she placed a hand on top of his. "Thank you. For everything."

"You really don't need to—" before Jeff finished what he was saying, Buckman stood and called out to him.

"I think we did it! Just hold tight and watch the fireworks!"

There was a low rumbling sound. Something about it made Jeff uneasy. The Covenant position was still a ways off from them, but the sound kept growing louder.

He craned his head upward and froze. His HUD enhanced the image and he saw it through slow-moving frames.

There was a shriek of passing aircraft, and the scream of falling bombs. Buckman swore, but didn't have time to run. Right before the forest exploded, Jeff jumped forward and covered her with his bulky frame and bellowed, "JEN! GET DOWN!"

Jeff coughed uncontrollably. He hacked up blood and clenched his jaw, feeling like every tooth in his mouth was rattled loose. His eyes watered from the smoke and dust… his helmet had been blown off his shoulders when the explosions tossed him into the air and through a couple of trees.

He heard a weak groan behind him. He rolled over and crawled to Jen's heaving form. She lay on the ground, her eyes blinking wildly. He glanced down and nearly yelled out, angry at the Covenant, angry at the universe.

Jen's torso was covered in blood. Her hand feebly trembled by her side. Jeff took hold of it and peeled back the blood-soaked, ripped and torn ballistic armour. Fragments of vicious looking shrapnel were embedded into her gut, shredding all the way through her body.

"Jen," he whispered, "God dammit! Jen!"

Her eyes focused, looking at him. "Jeff?"

It killed him to hear that. "Yeah, it's me. Hang on, okay?"

"You became a Spartan?" She looked dazed.

Jeff gritted his teeth as he answered, "I did."

She managed a smile, blood dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. "You saved me on Arcturei. I knew it." She closed her eyes.

"Jen, look at me," Jeff said, panicking. He looked around the remains of the forest. Only upturned dirt, shattered tree trunks and grotesque corpses remained. "Stay with me!"

Jen let out a whimper, and her eyes welled with tears. "It hurts. God, it hurts!"

Jeff looked horrified. His armour protected him from most of the impact, and while he shielded Jen, it was impossible to protect her completely. The others were gone in seconds… she had to go through the worst of it. He whispered, "Jen, I'm so sorry."

She squeezed his hand and said, "It's all right. It's going to be okay. It'll be over soon."

Jeff closed his eyes, not letting go. "You would make an amazing Spartan. The best."

Jen breathed out. "You saved me on Arcturei, didn't you?"

A pause, then, "Yeah. I did."

"Thank you," she mumbled, growing faint. Then her hand fell limp. Jeff tightened his grip, waiting for her to squeeze back.

She never did.

He let out a hoarse cry and crushed a clump of dirt in his left fist. After a moment, he wiped the moisture dribbling down his cheeks and said gently, "Thank you."

Jeff staggered to the edge of the forest, his rifle hanging loosely in his grasp. His helmet was tucked under his arm. His face was smeared with dirt and blood, his features expressionless. Around him, the forest was grey and dying. Fires dotted the ground, shell holes were carved into the land.

In the clearing, there was a roar overhead with the beating of enormous, powerful rotors. A Falcon transport hovered above him and touched down in the meadow. He saw Brooke jump out of the door and wave him forward. Behind her, Doctor Wells sat strapped in. She was casually scrolling through her electronic pad, her legs crossed and hair done up.

Jeff stood completely still. From inside his helmet, he heard Brooke's voice.

"Jeff, this is it. We need to go! We're leaving right now! Come on! Get out of there! It's over!"

Broadcasting on the same frequency, another voice broke in. "Is anybody out there? We're pinned down and need assistance. This is Admiral Danforth Whitcomb! I repeat, we are pinned down and need assistance. Is anyone out there?"

For a long while, he stared at the Falcon.

Then he put his helmet over his head and turned on his heel. As he marched with confident strides, picking up speed, he hefted his assault rifle. He chinned the control and said loud and clear, "This is Spartan 000... reporting for duty."

* * *

Closing

Roll credits. What an adventure. My very first fanfiction project has reached its end about five years after it started. To be fair, I have gone back in a massive effort to rewrite the story, but this is it. After I finished the thirteenth rewrite, I really got back into the spirit of the story and hammered out chapters 14-16.

Updating this story (as in the original chapters) provided me with so much enjoyment in the writing field. Writing for you guys made the majority of 05 an awesome year, so if you happen to be one of the original readers, though I imagine they'd be very rare, especially at this time, thank you very very much.

How about that ending, huh? What a tearjerker. It was kind of a tough write, since I've never done anything quite like that before.

I finally have a sense of closure. I didn't think I could start a new story without finishing off some of my old ones, and 000 was just sitting around, waiting to be told. But finally. Finally.

I'll follow up with some bonus content at the end, with some of the original chapters (so you can see the difference in what kind of shit you thought you enjoyed). I only wish I finished this earlier, but it's been rewritten and I'm happy. It's okay now, I think.

It's been an awesome experience to write this. I don't know how many times I'm going to be repeating that, but I think you get the idea.

It's been fun. Thank you, and good night.

Completion date (just for the sake of continuity) – July 30/10


	17. The Making Of and Bonus Content

**000 Bonus Content**

(October 27/10 – I want to throw out, I've had this chapter of 'special features' tucked away for some time. Finishing the story was a personal goal for me, so it's great if you can share the experience too...all the more power to ya. I only return because after seeing that 000 _IS_ being read—and favourited [THANKS GUYS—nobody is leaving reviews! I, for one, love to hear feedback and other stuff. It's what motivates us writers. So be a pal, write up a nice little note and keep reading!)

* * *

In the case of Where Duty Ends, I followed up with an alternate opening and ending, a little to show what kind of thought process went into writing it. Where the story has gone right from the moment I sit down and start typing, to the end when I finally hit 'upload'. Spartan 000 was rewritten almost from the ground up, taking a major plot turn about 2/3 of the way through. Chapters 1 through 9 remained with the same sort of plotline during the rewrite, only because I just wanted to go back and clean up some ugly formatting and descriptions. But as it went on and I finally got through the ridiculousness, it was impossible for me to stick with it. By that point in the story's life, I was just trying to set up action-set-piece after action-set-piece...logistics be damned. Not that the rewrite is a slow-moving, dramatic innovation, mind you.

I want to say going through the earlier chapters was fine, easy enough. But after I reached 10, there was too much bullshit for me to sit through and enjoy. I just had to fix up the events before the end. Chapter 14 is where I would have ended it logically, leaving it a little more open to a sequel, ending it on low "cloak and daggers" note. As a quick aside, that's the tone I want a hypothetical reboot to have. The final two chapters round off where the original story left off, yet it was connected for a just a little continuity. Also because, it's named Spartan 000, I had to do something with that at least.

Anyway, I said I would repost parts of the original story, but unfortunately some chapters are lost, or are on a computer virus'd up so badly I don't want to turn it on to retrieve them. But the ones I do post, however, I thought it would be fun to do an Author's Commentary for a good portion of the original story so you can read and think "this is bullshit!" right along with me, if you haven't been doing that already.

This bonus chapter contains the sections:

Spartan 000 – What's In A Name?  
The Original Spartan 000 with Author's Commentary  
Chapter 16 – Tying It Up, Tying It Together

* * *

**Spartan 000 – What's In A Name?**

The idea of 000 came while reading the Fall of Reach. The thing that fascinated me the most was the whole notion of turning people into super soldiers against their will. Involuntary human experimentation, while terrible and also mostly illegal, has always been a fascinating subject to me. Watching District 9 (no spoilers), it was horrifying and uncomfortable to watch that one scene, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away. Scariest part of the whole movie for me.

As it says in the description, the _truth_ about the "Project" was that it led to the creation of the Spartan IIIs, and I didn't even think of that until well into the hiatus. I barely touched that in the rewrite. While it still works, I thought of this when I intended for Ackerson to be the biggest villain I could. At a time, he was behind at least three of the plots I had going for me. Guy behind Twisted System? Ackerson. 000 Reborn? Not currently in the works, but Ackerson. Halo: Underground? Fucking Ackerson!

Then I found out he was actually killed in one of the Halo graphic novels. What the fuck! Ackerson was almost like the ultimate spook behind all this shady government sanctioned crap. I'm a huge David Baldacci fan. Conspiracy theories are awesome on paper.

As for 000 itself, I didn't intend to do anything with the designation. I think I wanted to throw this in the story, and I still don't think I ever explained why Benson was called that. I just thought it was going to be a catchy enough title, since all the Spartans have their three-digit code, Jeff technically wasn't a Spartan, thus he wasn't part of the original gang and couldn't receive a real number. Then I started running with the idea (which might resurface as the reboot I've been mentioning) of Subject 000, or the precursor to Spartan IIs, since logically 0 comes before 1. The whole premise of that was supposed to be he is the very first. Of course, it's still a half-baked idea so maybe nothing will come of it.

* * *

**Author's Commentary**

This is for those who want a trip down memory lane. The shitty memory lane. Most of the story intact with its inaccuracies, inconsistencies, and retardedness for your enjoyment.

The commentary is whenever _-!_ pops up or long sections in italics.

**Chapter 1 **

_It's gone. Thankfully, it isn't that drastically different in the final version so I'll commentate over one of the rewrites. I think the story is most changed from chapters 10-14. If you don't want to suffer through the early chapters, Ctrl+F your way to glorious violence and dismemberment._

**1130 Hours, August 17, 2517 (Military Calendar) / Eridanus Star System, Eridanus 2, Elysium City**

Keyes stole a glance at the doctor as they made their way through the playground back to their ride out. She seemed to be uncomfortable and strode with brisk strides, as if she wanted to be far away from the place as possible. Her electronic pad beeped, but Dr. Halsey ignored it. It beeped once again, and continued the pattern as a sign of urgency. Keyes didn't want to bother the woman, but she did look a little distracted by something else. Timidly, he asked, "Are you going to answer that?"

_-! Right off the bat, I wanted 000 to almost mirror Nylund's style of writing, to show this scene is like a missing chapter from The Fall of Reach, so if you were to turn a page in a novel and find this, you'd read it without thinking twice. There's no other way to explain the abrupt start, no character introductions or whatever. _

With a huff of irritation, she retrieved the pad and tapped a button on the side once. Her eyes quickly flitted from side to side as she peered into the tiny screen and scanned through the information.

"Wait a minute, Lieutenant," Dr. Halsey said with a wave of her hand. "I've just been informed that we have another candidate for the program in this place. We'll have to go back in and see if my sources were right."

"Go back?" Keyes sighed. He desperately wanted to get out of his civilian clothing, and the doctor could tell. She allowed herself a smile as he tried to tighten the loose collar of his shirt.

"It won't take a minute," she told him, while turning back and motioning for him to follow.

"I seriously doubt that," Keyes muttered under his breath.

The two walked closer to the facility. There still weren't any adults around to supervise the children. They stopped when they reached the courtyard.

She stared again into the data pad and held up a hand. "We're near his location, I think," Dr. Halsey said while rechecking the small device.

"Who exactly are we looking for, Doctor?" Keyes asked.

"I don't know his name, but he is a six year old male" she replied.

"Just like subject 117?"

"Yes, but this one is different," Halsey paused, "this one is more like a child genius. His brain will always be seven years ahead. Right now, being six years old, he has the mind of a thirteen year old. And by twenty, he will have the mind of a twenty-seven year old."

_-! That was fucking stupid. I didn't know how to write in the voice of a six year old. But if he was the exact same as John 117, the story wouldn't be any different than TFoR. _

"Impressive," Keyes said slowly, taking in all of this.

Halsey nodded and accessed a file on her pad. Without taking her eyes off, she said, "Basically, he's got talents we can't afford to ignore."

Keyes looked around until he saw a boy standing near a decorative pillar. "Is that him?"

Dr. Halsey frowned. She stared at him then turned to Keyes. "No. Either ONI sent me an old picture of the subject, or you've guessed wrong." Dr. Halsey said as she shook her head. She was getting frustrated, but they couldn't just leave a subject for the Spartan program as a civilian. Who knew what this one boy could do while serving for the UNSC.

Keyes nodded and stared off into the shadows. Even at noon, the courtyard was surprisingly gloomy and dark. Suddenly, he saw something moving within the shadows. He blinked and looked again, but everything was still. Keyes squinted and saw the figure again. He could just make out the outline of a child. The figure was moving with slow deliberate steps. Keyes tapped the doctor on the shoulder and pointed to the shadows. He and Dr. Halsey watched as the figure darted from pillar to pillar with quick and silent steps. When the figure finally poked his head out from behind a pillar, Halsey quickly took a picture and saved the file. She compared ONI's picture with the one she had just taken.

"Keyes, we have a match," Dr. Halsey whispered.

The doctor walked across the courtyard, never taking an eye off her subject that waited in the shadows. The figure silently leapt out of the shadows and was about to land on the first boy.

The doctor cleared her throat to attract the boy's attention.

The one from the shadows turned in mid jump and fell short of his target. The first boy whirled around and ran out of the courtyard screaming and giggling, "You can't catch me!"

Halsey walked over to the boy who was cursing and helping himself up. He pushed locks of light-brown hair out of his green eyes and stood up.

"Can I please speak to you?" she asked.

The boy glanced through the doors of the courtyard and made a face, then nodded slightly.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Jeff," he replied with a cold stare. Unlike her previous encounter with subject 117, this one seemed less welcoming and more hostile—like a spring ready to release. His unfriendly demeanor threw her a little, but she shrugged off the feeling.

_-! This is the first time we see __**Jeff Benson**__. But this was new. I think my very original had him more friendly and charming, and while that did carry over to some later chapters, it just didn't work for the character especially in the rewrite. Jeff became a lot quieter and meaner. The character of Jeff is inspired by all the anti-heroes I came to admire. A lot of protagonists are shown as do-gooders of the universe (thanks Bioware), but with no obvious antagonist in the story (in the original), Jeff had to be violent and bloodthirsty enough for everyone. I pretty much just wanted a character to "kick fucking asshole all over the neighbourhood" as Joel Heyman of Roosterteeth fame said in the Drunk Tank regarding Modern Warfare 2. And in that same mentality, to make some comparisons, Jeff also served no purpose other than to get into fights and provide some serious bloodshed with little character development or intelligible story involved. The rewrite painted him as a little more incompetent in some regards, since arguably he shared the spotlight with Brooke and she was no goddamn pushover._

The doctor bent down to meet the boy at eye-level. She didn't have much experience with children, but this was what she'd been told to do. She put on a friendly smile, "It's nice to meet you, Jeff."

Again, he nodded but crossed his arms and leaned back against a pillar. The kid was being uncooperative—not what Dr. Halsey had prepared for. She tried again, "What were you doing?"

With a casual shrug, he answered curtly, "Tag."

"Tag?" Dr. Halsey asked, cocking her head slightly. Finally, this was going somewhere. She'd managed to get the boy to say something. She wanted to carry on. "Is that some kind of game?"

Jeff smiled, but it wasn't a smile of friendship. It was mocking, and it sent shivers down Halsey's spine. He said, "Well now, aren't you smart. Don't they teach you doctor-types anything?"

_-! I struggled with this for the longest time. I still get mad over what Jeff's supposed to say at this part._

This remark threw her off completely. She stood up straight again, her eyebrow raised in question. Dr. Halsey decided to kill the acting. "What makes you think I'm a doctor, Jeff?"

He rubbed his hands together and smiled once again. "You're either a teacher or someone else completely—and just to tell you, I _know_ every teacher in this place—plus, not many adults would like to speak to me about absolutely nothing. So this concludes with me taking a stab and saying, 'Yeah, you're a doctor.'

"Oh yeah, and to be honest, you have a blind spot about fashion. This is a small city, and I know a lot of people. I'm not sure you're from around here."

Dr. Halsey was speechless for a moment. They were right… this boy was unlike any other six year old. Maybe he was just talking smart, but either way… She ignored the clothing comment and tried one more time. "Actually, I am planning on enrolling my daughter here," Halsey lied, "and this is my husband." She hastily motioned for Keyes to come closer.

Jeff eyed the man, and his face lit up. "Hey, you UNSC?" he asked as Keyes walked up beside Halsey. The junior grade lieutenant looked at Halsey. She just shrugged and turned away with a bewildered look on her face.

He quickly said, "What? No I'm not." The navy man tried not to blow his cover, but he wasn't doing very well. "Then what gave me away?" Keyes asked, his expression mirroring Halsey's.

Jeff placed his left hand over his chin and drew a straight line up and down with his right index finger animatedly. "One thing, learn to relax," Jeff said with a smirk, "and another? Grow some hair, or get a better haircut."

Just then, a bell sounded, and children from all sides streamed in, ready for their afternoon classes. With a small laugh, Jeff stepped backwards and raised his hand to wave farewell, then melded into the crowd of kids.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Keyes said to Halsey, running his hand over his head.

"Take an acting class," she snapped and began to walk back to the ship. Jeff demonstrated stealth… in more ways than not, he was more intelligent than the average child his age, although a bit rude, but sure enough, Jeff was another candidate for the program.

_-! This was one exchange I struggled with. The original was probably much worse, but this isn't any better. I changed it up in the final version, but there's still some wackiness going on I don't necessarily like. Overall though, it's not a great start to the story._

But the catch was how she was going to get him. And she _was_ going to get him.

* * *

**Chapter 2 **

**2100 Hours, August 17, 2517 (Military Calendar) / Eridanus Star System, Eridanus 2, Elysium City**

_-! I would first like to note, in the final version of chapter two, for the longest time I accidentally released it with a heading of "12:45 PM,__** August, September **__19, 2517, Elysium City__**" **__Yeah. I know._

Jeff called over his shoulder as he walked into the garage of his suburban house, "Mom, I'm going to Steve's house for a sleepover tonight."

"Okay, Jeff, but don't stay up too late," came a reply from the kitchen.

"I won't, mom."

Something caught Jeff's eye as he walked past a shelf. He pulled out his father's old fashioned BB gun. It was considered an antique nowadays. Something was going to happen tonight. He could just feel it. Jeff put the gun in his pocket. He didn't know why he was carrying it…it just felt right. Then again, he wasn't actually going to over Steve's house. Jeff sighed as he looked at his house. He may never see it again in his life. Jeff banished all those thoughts from his mind and started down the road.

_-! Yeah! Some serious foreshadowing going on, baby! _

**2200 Hours, August 17, 2517 (Military Calendar) / Eridanus Star System, Eridanus 2, Elysium City**

Jeff cursed at himself. His feet had taken him to a tree that overlooked his house. He had waited there for over two hours now. Even his parents had turned off all the lights and had gone to sleep. He had a good mind to walk back home. Suddenly, a black vehicle pulled up to his house and stopped. Jeff crouched down and watched silently. He saw three men walk up to his door. He watched as they picked the lock and silently filed into the house. Then the light turned on in his room. Jeff could see the three men standing around his bed and talking. Even for a six year old, he had the gift of being able to see very far. He didn't need any binoculars. Jeff paused and exhaled sharply. He looked again. Yes, one of the three men was holding a syringe.

"Why the hell do you need one of those things?" Jeff wondered aloud.

The three men walked out of the house. Two of them were swearing. The third one just walked over to the vehicle. They held a conversation for a few minutes. Jeff had exceptional sight, but he couldn't hear what they were talking about. He climbed the tree and crawled on top of a branch. He could just hear snippets of their conversation.

"If we don't find that kid soon, Dr. Halsey is going to have our hides"

_-! I just used "have our hides" in an actual sentence. I may never write again._

"Can we help it if this kid knows what he's doing?"

The last man said something that Jeff couldn't hear. As Jeff crawled out further on the branch until he heard a cracking sound.

"Please, don't break. Please don't break. If you break on me now-" Jeff didn't get to finish. The branch broke and he fell on to the pavement. The men looked up and saw Jeff. They walked over to him. The first man pulled out the syringe and whispered, "Time for your medicine, kid."

Jeff didn't take to this lightly. He sprung up and snapped a kick at the man's groin. As Jeff turned around, the other two had moved behind him. He whipped out his BB gun. It wasn't enough to kill someone, but at point blank, it could break one's finger. Jeff quickly aimed it at the second man and squeezed the trigger. The man reeled over in pain as the pellet had struck his gut. Jeff gave the last man a defiant smirk and turned on his heel and sprinted down the street. He was also a very fast runner. The man tried to follow but quickly fell behind. Jeff ran into a forest that lay behind his education facility. He stopped and leaned against a tree, his eyes glancing around. He caught his breath. Why were those men chasing him? It was the lady. She and the UNSC man were to blame. But that still didn't explain why they were chasing _him_. He sat down and soon fell asleep.

_! World's fastest sleeper right there. When I reread over this years later, I literally said out loud: "Haha, what the fu—"_

Jeff sat upright quickly. Something told him that he wasn't alone. He looked around and saw that it was morning. But someone was watching him. He stood up and reached for his gun. Jeff waited a few more minutes then decided that it was only an animal. He walked further into the forest and glanced down. There was a sheer drop into the river. Suddenly, Jeff heard the bushes rustle. He whirled around. A man stood behind him.

"Jeff Benson? I need you to come with me. Just follow my instructions and you won't be hurt," the man said to Jeff.

"May I ask where," Jeff said.

"I'm afraid that's classified. Come on," the man said impatiently.

"Over my dead body," Jeff said with an angry glare.

"Then I'll have to force you!" The man darted forward and tried to grab Jeff but he was too quick. Jeff ran to the edge of the cliff and grinned at him.

"I'm only gonna ask you once, kid," the man tried one more attempt to grab him but Jeff jumped away and pushed the man down into river below. The man fell with a scream but was soon cut off as he landed on some sharp rocks. Jeff watched with hatred in his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He fell against a tree and tried to support himself. Then he felt a pain in his shoulder. He looked in horror as he saw a dart. Jeff tried to stand up straight but his leg was failing him. He fell to the ground and the last thing he saw was a figure that was entirely dressed in black. Then his vision went blurry and he blacked out.

Jeff blinked and looked around. He had no idea where he was or how long he was asleep, or out cold, rather. A man came into his view.

"It looks like sleeping beauty has woken up," the man said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"Where am I?" Jeff asked.

"That question will be answered soon enough," the man answered as he pushed Jeff through a door. Jeff immediately saw many other children in the same room.

**2300 Hours September 23, 2517 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

"The boy Jeff Benson has been successfully captured," a man said to Dr. Halsey.

"Were there any difficulties?" The doctor said to the man.

"Well, the other man, Moore, claims that Jeff threw him off a cliff. Moore is suffering from 3 broken ribs and a fractured arm and is being treated."

"I see," Dr. Halsey said. "Now please leave. I've got to talk to Déjà."

"Yes, Doctor."

After summoning Chief Mendez and her AI, Déjà, they walked into an auditorium. Four sets of double doors opened and seventy-five…Dr. Halsey corrected herself, seventy six children filed in. She spied subject 117, John and the other boy, Jeff sitting on the risers. Doctor Halsey expected them to both be sitting together because they both came from the same city and learning facility. She stepped forward and began her speech.

Jeff looked around. He didn't see anyone he knew. Just then, the same woman who approached Jeff the other day began to speak. Being a child genius, he understood every word and phrase she spoke of. He looked at the rest of the children. They didn't seem to understand what she was saying. They gave her a look that suggested that she was an alien. Jeff understood completely why they had taken him here, to become one of the greatest soldiers in the history of mankind. He was going to become a _Spartan._

_-! More Fall of Reach goodness to come._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**0545 Hours, September 24, 2517 (Military Calender) / Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach**

"Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!" Mendez called out after finishing one hundred full sit-ups. Jeff drew in a breath and swore. A boy beside him threw up but the trainers were on to him instantly with their electrical batons. After finishing leg lifts, Mendez finally said the magic word, "Rest!" Trainers gave the children bottles of water. Nobody talked. They were all afraid. Jeff stood up and looked around. That woman, Dr. Halsey, told them they were on Reach. Jeff had never heard of Reach and assumed it was a planet like the old Area 51 back on Earth.

"Done already, trainee?" Mendez asked with a menacing glare.

Jeff turned around and tried to say no, but the words didn't come out of his mouth.

"Okay, back on your feet. We're going for a run."

The rest of the children grumbled and gave Jeff dirty looks. After the run, Mendez had led them to a building that resembled a dome. Jeff saw someone standing by the door. She looked like a figure out of history.

"An AI," Jeff decided, "She can only be an AI"

"Welcome," the AI said, "My name is Déjà. I will be your teacher. Please come in, class is about to start."

Jeff heard the rest of the children groan. He for one was happy to sit in a cool and dark building instead of doing the morning calisthenics. He sat at a desk and stared ahead.

"We are going to be the Universe's best soldiers," Jeff pondered the meaning. From what he knew, and as far as he was concerned, the UNSC marines were the best in the universe. But something told him that the history of mankind will be changed forever.

_-! I remember when I wrote this, I had the actual fucking book in my hand so I could quickly see what was going on and comment on it from another perspective. That's what the cool kids do, right?_

After their exercise in the "playground", Jeff strolled out of the dining hall. It was too bad team three had lost. He remembered that boy, number 117's face when he heard that he had lost. That kid did not like to lose. On his way back to the barracks, he saw a dark figure move out of the main building. Jeff squinted to get a better look. Yes, it was the same man who had shot him with the darts. Jeff thought back to that day. Even with his gift of spectacular vision, he could not see the man. Marine snipers couldn't hide that well, and Jeff doubted that Dr. Halsey would even bother the UNSC for a marine. The man walked off the training grounds and into an outlying forest. Jeff followed closely behind, making sure not to step on anything that might give him away. The man came into a clearing. He glanced behind him but Jeff was nowhere to be seen. Jeff saw the man march across a field and into a cabin. This was his chance; he ran to the cabin and crouched by the window. The man was looking at a sniper rifle. But this rifle didn't look like the standard issue S2 AM Sniper Rifle. It seemed somehow…modified. Jeff slipped in through the door silently. The man seemed preoccupied with cleaning his rifle. He didn't even notice when Jeff took the pistol lying on the counter and held it up to the man's head.

"What do you want from me?" the man asked as he raised his head slightly.

"My old life back…if you could spare it" Jeff said as he lowered the pistol.

"Jeff Benson? How did you get off-?"

"I'll ask the questions," Jeff growled as he pushed the pistol deeper into the man's head.

"Listen kid, Halsey paid me to get you. She knew you'd try to pull something off like that."

"So she paid you, did she? How much, then?"

"That's classified and I-"

"Shut up and answer the question."

"Five thousand."

"And you accepted."

"Of course I accepted."

"Shameless bastard, that's what you are."

"Look, you're not really going to shoot me, are you?"

Jeff thumbed the safety and replied, "Think again." He paused for a second. "I won't shoot you, only if you promise to teach me to be a crack shot like you. In other words, I want to be a freelancer."

"What gave you the idea that I was a freelancer?" the man asked as he turned around to face Jeff. He had blonde hair and dull grey eyes and looked as if he was in his mid thirties.

"If there's money involved, the freelancer is always there for the kill," Jeff said as he thumbed the safety and threw the pistol away.

"Jeff, you're a smart kid. Are you sure you want to become like me?"

"Well, there's hope in being the UNSC's finest, but I do want to become like you. Except not outsmarted by a 6 year old."

The man's jaw clenched. "Yeah yeah, don't let it get to your head. So you caught me off guard. By the way, my name is Paul Andrews. If you really want it, your training starts tomorrow."

"Awesome," Jeff said with his famous grin. "I'll be there. I mean, what's to lose?"

"Your sanity," Paul muttered but Jeff had already walked out the door.

_-! I liked the idea of Jeff's Obi-Wan, but I don't think it carried too well, especially at the pace I jumped around. Also, that chapter sucked. All these chapters suck!_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_Oh no! It's missing! I think it was the same as the rewritten version in spirit, with minor changes at the end. See the footnote at the end of that chapter for my shoutout to __**Shadecaster**__. There are no other rewritten versions to show, unfortunately._

**Chapters 5, 6, and 7**

_This was kind of a shame I don't have them on hand either. But these are the last few missing, so that's progress. Five and six detailed the break in of the Reach medical facility. It's the same plot as in the rewrite, but the whole part with him breaking in and breaking out was one of the reasons why I wanted to do the rewrite. He was such a different character back then, compared to what he ended up as (at least in the original story) and some crazy shit went down during that whole part of the story. _

_If you ever witnessed the original chapter 5, people got messed up. Jeff was murdering dudes left and right. It wasn't so much an infiltration, more of a crazy massacre shoot 'em up. I toned that down much more, but kept in some of the deaths. I didn't exactly want to turn it from "rated R" to "PG-13" or "shotguns to walkie-talkies", but I did want to keep a sense of lethality about the character. Kind of like Sam Fisher. Third Echelon doesn't like it when Fisher kills guys, but if he wants to kill guys, he's gonna fucking kill guys. _

_Seven introduced the marine __**Jen Wilson**__. Originally, she was Jeff's main squeeze for the entire story. The only problem was, she was such a boring character she had no room to develop. I remember writing the very first chapter 13, making her something of Jeff's partner. I didn't think I could change her character that much, and thus the entire idea was done away with. She was written out of the second chapter 13 without so much as a goodbye. _

_Their scenes together were clumy, awkward and embarrassing to read as well as write. 000 needed a strong female lead, and the introduction of the Spartan __**Brooke**__ provided that. _

* * *

**Chapter 8**

With the feel of the rifle in his hands, Jeff had walked away. He had forgotten about Jen just like that. The thoughts of murder flashed in his head. No doubt, Paul was right. Dr. Halsey still wanted to turn Jeff into a Spartan. But he was still looking for a way off this damn rock. Suddenly, a marine came from behind him, ready to grab him, but Jeff whirled around and bludgeoned him the rifle he held. Jeff was a remarkably strong fellow, and the butt caught the marine in the nose. Blood poured out of a nostril. Another marine had his rifle trained on Jeff.

"Halt! You aren't permitted to carry around firearms, order of Dr. Halsey."

Ah, yes. Jeff had been so caught up with his thoughts, he had forgotten about the rifle.

"Sorry about that," Jeff said with a small grin. He laid the gun on the ground and continued walking.

"Spartan 000, come here." A voice sounded. It was Dr. Halsey. Jeff turned to face her in disgust. Beside her was another face that looked familiar. The Doctor spoke again, "Jeff, this is Dr. Wells. She has come up with a better technique for the augmentation process of the Spartan."

_-! The introduction of __**Dr. Rachael Wells**__. She plays more or less the same role as Halsey, but she was added in originally only to take the load off of Halsey, who was probably preoccupied with other issues. I didn't want to have to rely on pre-written characters and in the rewrite, tried my hardest to get rid of any Halo characters. On that same token though, I always wanted to keep Ackerson around by name. After I got the idea of (spoilers!) Jeff and Brooke being the precursors to Spartan IIIs, Wells had to be working under the Colonel._

_She didn't have much to do the first time around. Even the original 14 and 15, Wells and Jeff were on pretty good terms. Over time every female character in the rewrite became an ultra bitch. I don't know why._

_Seriously._

Jeff leaned forward and shook Dr. Wells' hand. She had red streaks in her hair and she looked like a replica of Dr. Halsey. But she seemed as old as Jeff.

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor," said Jeff.

"The pleasure's all mine."

"Jeff, this leaves us with two options. You can either become a Spartan, or be in jail like Paul there."

_-! Paul Andrews was only arrested in this version. In the final rewrite, he is totally killed and never seen nor mentioned again._

"Jail doesn't sound half bad. But why jail?"

"You were caught red handed for breaking and entering, you've assaulted 2 guards, and you've killed 5 others."

_-! It doesn't sound bad now, but wait until he escapes._

"Ah, yes. I would have to choose," Jeff paused, noting that a guard had moved up from behind him. "A Spartan…but not right away."

"You've made a smart choice, Jeff. Your skills would be a great addition to the UNSC and the other Spartans," Dr. Halsey said, her mouth curled into a small smile. "That reminds me. The other Spartans have returned from their training exercise. They sport something that you may find quite…interesting."

"I'll never find the Spartans interesting," Jeff muttered under his breath. He turned around to walk to his room.

Behind a wall, Jen had heard snippets of the conversation.

"Now that is interesting," she said to herself. "Very interesting indeed."

_-! Wow. That's pretty terrible. God dammit._

Jeff couldn't sleep. He missed the comfort of his own bed. And the worst thing of all, he couldn't trust those ONI bastards. They might take him while he's asleep. Jeff swung his legs out of bed and stood up. He needed some fresh air.

The cold air of the dark night froze his bare arms. Looked into the forest and sighed. So many little memories existed in this place. He shivered. He had no intention of becoming a Spartan, but being in jail didn't help either.

"Spartan 000," a voice said from behind him. Jeff turned around. It was Jen.

"I knew it was you. I want some answers, Jeff," Jen said with a serious face.

"Well, go on."

"Why are you named Spartan 000?"

"That's a secret," Jeff was cut off.

"No more secrets," Jen said firmly.

"All right. Here's the truth," Jeff took a deep breath from his nose. "I've been on Reach before. To be perfectly honest, when I was six years old. I was drafted as a Spartan. But the thing is, I didn't want to become a Spartan. So I escaped from Reach. I lived on Earth, after that. You may not believe me, but I make a living as an assassin," Jeff paused, seeing the look of utter disbelief on Jen's face. "Need I go on?"

"Please do."

"Right, one day, someone called me up and gave me an assignment: to break into the ONI building, get the files for the Spartans, and then to give it to him. All of that for ten million dollars. And now, I end up here."

Jen straightened up. "So what are you going to do with your life now?"

"I've been asked to be a Spartan. And if I do get outta here, that bastard who set me up is going to pay. Dearly. Anyway, I'm not going to stick around here any longer. I will escape, sooner or later."

"But, what's wrong with being a Spartan?"

"Oh don't start that again! I value my emotions—"

"That's a new one."

"Anyway. What are they good for? Super soldiers…built for war. They are freaks. What can I say?"

Suddenly, a creature stepped out from behind a wall. Jeff's eyes widened. He stood up and flinched.

"Calm down, Jeff. It's only a Spartan," Jen said with a sigh.

"That beast is a Spartan? It's a walking tank!"

"It's good to see you again, Jeff," the Spartan said.

"John? Is that you?"

"Dr. Halsey sent me out here to look for you. Apparently, you should be in your room."

"Well, apparently, John, I'm busy. Come back later."

"Now, Jeff!"

"It's best not to upset these guys, Jeff," Jen whispered silently. She took his hand in hers. "Where can I find you again?"

Jeff tried to whisper, but it was no use. He didn't know the Spartans had improved hearing. "Meet me in New Vancouver."

With that, the Spartan whisked him off to the ONI building.

_-! During the rewrite, I wanted Jeff to drop a clue so they could meet up again, but scrapped the idea entirely once I was confident she could be written out._

* * *

**Chapter 9**

As soon as the Spartan was out of sight, Jeff sat down at a desk. He needed some serious thinking. Dr. Halsey was bent on turning him into a Spartan. He needed to get off Reach…fast.

The door swung open and a guard strolled through.

"Jeff Benson," the guard asked.

"Why the hell would you want to know?"

"Dr. Wells has changed the date of your augmentation. I'm here to escort you to the medical bay."

"She changed the date, did she? Well, tell her that I'm not ready yet," Jeff said, turning back to face the desk. He turned around again, to see that the guard was still standing there. "What are you up to? Come on, be off with you."

"Look bub, I'm nobody's messenger boy. So you're either coming with me willingly, or I'll have to force you."

"Oh so threatening," Jeff said, his back still turned towards the guard.

"That's it, you're coming with me," the guard's hand fell across Jeff's shoulder. That was the biggest mistake he would ever make in his lifetime. With a lightning fast reaction, Jeff grabbed the man's hand and squeezed. Jeff heard the man's bones breaking. He screamed out, but Jeff wasn't done with him just yet.

He jumped up and planted his foot into the guard's stomach. The man doubled over in pain. Jeff then brought his elbow down on the man's head. He still wasn't going down. Jeff dropped down and swung his leg at the guard's leg. That did it the trick. His legs gave away, and before he fell, Jeff grabbed his pistol out of the holster. The guard tried to scramble to his feet, but Jeff planted his heel into the back of his head.

Jeff leaned closer to his ear and whispered, "See here, I don't really kill people for no reason at all. I'm in it for the money. But you're a first. Welcome to my long list, my friend." And with that, Jeff emptied the clip into the guard's head.

Jeff searched the body for more ammo clips and found two more. Dr. Wells had taken her first bold move in this little game.

_-! This was the stage in my writing when I didn't know what the fuck a paragraph was for. I wrote everything in one massive chunk. Below is the properly spaced out version._

He stepped into the brightly lit hallway and blinked. A door flew open, and another guard stepped through. It only took a split second before Jeff was on to him. Jeff landed a ferocious blow to the man's face, leaving an instant dark bruise. He kicked the guard's head a few times and planted a round into his forehead.

Too bad for Jeff, the pistol wasn't silenced, and the hallway wasn't soundproof. Another guard rushed through the opposite door of the hallway. Jeff engaged him in another hand-to-hand fight. The guard swung his fist at Jeff's head, but to his surprise, Jeff didn't even try to block it. The pistol went off, and the round tore through the guard and exited through his back. He crumpled in a heap.

Jeff ran through a door and found himself in another hallway. He needed directions. More importantly, he needed to find his equipment and personal weapons. Marines! He snuck up on one and grabbed his helmet and tore it off his head. He dragged the struggling marine to a wall and quickly stood behind him. He grabbed the back of his head, and his arm shot forward. The marine's head slammed into the wall with a pulpy _smack! _Jeff repeated this for a few more minutes, and then stopped.

The white wall had been dented in, and had been painted red. With two hands, he picked the marine up and swung his whole body out a window. Jeff peered into the darkness. The marine's body was limp. He wasn't moving at all. Actually, who would survive a twelve foot drop? Certainly not a human, I can tell you that. Unfortunately, the marine was off duty, and he wasn't carrying a weapon.

Suddenly, the door Jeff wanted to take shot open, and a marine bearing an MA5B Assault Rifle ran through. Jeff dove to the floor, the Assault Rifle rounds passing right over his head. He brought up his pistol and fired the trigger at the marine's torso. Right at that second, another marine came through a door behind Jeff on the opposite side of the long hall. The first marine clutched his chest, and he fell to the ground, his finger twitched and squeezed the trigger. Rounds burst from the rifle, and luckily, they passed over Jeff and implanted themselves in the marine who had just come through behind Jeff.

Jeff grabbed the rifle and stopped. The marine behind him was bearing an M90 Shotgun. He was about to reach for it, and then another marine strolled through the door with a new rifle Jeff had never seen before. It had an attached scope on it. As the marine pulled the trigger, Jeff pushed the rifle down. He wretched the rifle from the marine's grip and swung the butt at the marine's head.

The marine went down and slumped against a wall, blood pouring out of his nose. Jeff held the butt in front, and heaved it at the marine's head. He had surely fractured the marine's skull. He quickly abandoned the MA5B and picked up the M90 and the new rifle instead. He slung the shotgun over his shoulder and found some clips for his rifle. It was almost like his own rifle, except his sported a fully automatic feature as well as a single shot.

The only difference was that Jeff's didn't have a scope. He never had any need for one. He could pick off a target over 100 metres away…and have a head-shot too.

He continued to the next hallway. Hallways and rooms were what the ONI building was all about. Anyone could get lost in this damn place. This hallway was empty. That was a little strange. Then suddenly, he noticed a surveillance camera in the corner.

"Shit," Jeff cried through clenched teeth, as he dove to the ground and rolled off to the side. The door in front of him shot open and rounds flew out, hitting the other side of the hallway. He stood up, and four marines entered through the door. And behind him, four more marines came through.

"Not this again," Jeff muttered. Before anyone could react, Jeff dropped his rifle and pulled out his shotgun. A marine ran towards him, in a futile hope to disarm him. Jeff turned around and squeezed the trigger. The marine was blown backwards. The magnum-like rounds had completely torn the marine's chest open. Bits of rib and tissue had left a trail and surrounded the corpse.

Through the gaping hole, Jeff could see what was left of the bones and organs. He could even see his heart, slowing down its vigorous pace. Blood gushed out of the wound. Jeff turned around and fired into the middle of the first group of marines. He caught one in the shoulder, and another in the leg, but they could still fight. He aimed once more and squeezed the trigger. He expected the shotgun to kick against his shoulder, but all he heard was a dreaded _click! _

He held the gun like a club and all hell broke loose. A marine fired his pistol and Jeff easily dodged it. But a not-so-lucky marine caught the loose round in his face. Jeff ran up to the marine, pulled the pistol out of his hands, and brought it down on the marine's head, and then shot him in the face. Another from behind him on the right of the hallway held his MA5B Rifle, pointed at Jeff, but he picked up the marine that he had previously killed and held up his body shield.

The Assault Rifle was strong, but not strong enough to tear through a victim. Not that far away, that is. The rounds ripped chunks of flesh off the body. A marine on the left tried to run at Jeff, but the assassin launched his fist at the last possible second, and caught the marine in the face. Jeff grabbed the marine and threw him into the gunfire.

From behind his human shield, Jeff raised his pistol and fired it. He threw the corpse down to the ground. He ran up to the marines on the left and shot them with his pistol. He discarded the empty piece of junk and turned to the group of marines on the right. They were priming a stun grenade. Jeff spotted something sticking out from the corpses. It was the rifle that he had dropped earlier. He ran to it, but it was too late. The marine lobbed the grenade at him. But Jeff was always ever the resourceful thinker. In a millisecond, he had flipped the rifle around, and then he batted the grenade back at the marines as if it were a baseball.

A Spartan would never think of that.

The marines tried to run, but they couldn't for they were in an enclosed space. Jeff closed his eyes, and the grenade went off. A marine tried running at him to get to the door, but Jeff gunned him down with two bursts of the rifle. He took aim and shot the rest of the marines to death. He was ready to go to Dr. Wells, but something caught his eye. He ran to a door in the same hallway where he had killed the eight marines. He strolled through and his eyes lit up.

He had found his beloved things. He threw the rifle to the side and ran to his own rifle. He picked up everything that he had brought in with him. He pulled out a special knife of his. It was used for very special assassinations. He stepped into the hallway again. He looked around once more. It looked like a war had gone on in there. Bodies lay strewn along the ground, blood was splattered on the walls in very peculiar patterns; some of the bodies were missing limbs. The floor was also slick with blood, and it lay in puddles. Jeff wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and continued his escape.

_-! Ultra violence galore. The Madness Combat stage of my story. Those flash videos have managed to become more violent as the series proceeds while I toned it down._

* * *

**Chapter 9 and 10**

_9 and 10 because at the time of posting this, I just realized I don't know where the fuck Chapter 9 ends and 10 begins, so they're combined._

Jeff entered the next hallway and frowned. He looked at the elevator and shook his head. He thought better of it, and took the stairs. If they did lock the elevator down again, they had taken his grappling hook. Jeff glanced down the winding staircase and started forward.

After a little while, he stopped at a door. It led to the hallway. He peeked out and saw two marine guards. With a wicked smile, he brought his rifle into play. He fished in his pocket and brought out a single round. Jeff ejected the nearly full clip and shoved it in his pocket for a little later. Silently, he placed the single round in a special compartment in his rifle. He peered around the corner once more and pulled the butt right up against his shoulder.

"Just stay put, just a second longer," Jeff thought as he readied the rifle. He positioned it in such an angle. With a twitch of a finger, the round burst out. Except, the only problem was that the rifle wasn't even pointing at the men. Quite on the contrary, it was aimed at the wall opposite to them. But almost by "magic", the round hit the wall, ricocheted off it and hit one of the men.

Jeff silently cursed. The round was supposed to bounce off and hit both of the guards.

"And that was my last one," he growled—perhaps a little too loud.

"Hey, who's there?" the second marine yelled out. He ran towards Jeff's position. The marine was running straight past him, except Jeff jumped out and grabbed him first. He pinned him down and swung his fists at his face. The marine opened up his mouth to scream out, but Jeff clamped his bloody hand down on it. He landed a heavy blow to the marine's stomach and the blood sloshed out from under Jeff's hand. He watched as the red liquid dribbled down the marine's face—past his terrified eyes. He pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the marine's forehead. His eyes brimmed with tears as they followed the barrel. Jeff pulled his hand away from the marine's mouth and wiped the blood off on the marine's shirt.

"I'll let you live, just this once. But if you raise the alarm or anything like that, I swear, I will hunt you down," Jeff said in a menacing whisper. He pulled the marine to his feet and winked at him. Before he could react, Jeff swung his rifle at his head and it impacted with a pulpy _crack! _The marine dropped to the floor, unconscious. Blood poured from a nostril and leaked from his mouth.

Jeff walked around the hall and clenched his jaw. It was the wrong floor. He ran back to the stair case and walked down one more floor. He opened the door slightly. He saw Dr. Wells standing in front of her office, her arms crossed and her foot tapped with impatience. She glanced at her watch with an irritated look on her face. He was about to walk forward, but then he thought of an idea. He searched his pocket once more and frowned. They had taken his gadget to kill the lights, but maybe…

He took out the clip in his pocket and fed it back into his rifle. No, he wasn't going to shoot her. His rounds were powerful enough to go through some metals. He saw the breaker box at the end of the hall and took aim. He brought out his knife for later use. He squeezed the trigger and three rounds burst out and hit their mark. The power went out for the whole building. It was pitch black, except for the light of the moon. He could see the Doctor blindly wandering around. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled out his knife. He ran behind her and snaked his arm around her neck. She gasped as Jeff pulled her towards his own body and brought his knife to her throat.

"Come along now, Doctor. We have much to discuss," Jeff whispered in her ear. He dragged her backwards into her office and shut the door.

"Now, Doctor, let's talk, shall we? Where is my data cube?"

"Jeff! Where is my escort I sent you?"

"Answer the question!"

"I don't know—"

"Yes you do. Don't play stupid with me, Doctor," Jeff pulled the flat of the blade against her throat.

"I don't have it," she said, her voice faltered.

Jeff slowly rubbed the flat of the blade, pushing it even deeper into her neck. "One more time, and all I have to do is pull."

Panic gripped the Doctor. Dr. Halsey didn't want her to give him the cube, but if she refused, she was going to die—painfully.

"Come on, Doctor. I know you have it," Jeff sighed. He waited five more seconds. She wasn't answering. He pushed her against a wall with a grunt. With his free hand, he crept around her waist and searched in both pockets of her white lab coat. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. His face was still hidden in the shadows, but his eyes shone out eerily. He stared at her for a split second, and reached into her coat. He felt the inside pocket and pulled out the cube. It shimmered in the darkness like a light. She could see Jeff's eyes light up with anticipation.

"Thank you, Doctor. Now let us hope that our paths never cross again," Jeff said and he turned around and walked to the staircase. Dr. Wells released her breath and leaned against the wall. Being so close to death wasn't so fun. How could marines stand being at the frontlines?

Jeff broke into a run when he neared the entrance of this damn building. A group of marines were standing in front, probably doing a little training. About three, at least. They turned around when they saw him and pulled out pistols and rifles. Jeff's shoes skidded on the dirt as he scrambled to a halt. He jumped behind a pillar, just as the marines opened fire. The bullets pinged harmlessly off the stone column. He peeked around the corner and dove at the nearest marine. He slammed his fist into the marine's face. He then pivoted and shot his foot out and caught another in the gut. Jeff ran at the final marine and grabbed her by the shoulders. Wait, her? When they both landed on the ground with a crash, the helmet fell away, and a clump of blonde hair brushed past his cheek. When he looked at her face, he scrambled to get up, but her hand whipped out and slugged him in the jaw.

"Jesus, watch it," Jeff started. The marine's slender body twisted around and her head slammed into Jeff's torso. He grunted as she threw her full body weight into him and he fell and lay on his back. Jeff tried to pull himself up, but the marine had pinned him down as if they were in a wrestling stadium. The marine looked at his face. She gasped and quickly let go of his arms and legs. She stepped backwards, right on Jeff's foot. He twisted it, and she fell down again. But this time, right on top of Jeff.

She stared into his eyes for a brief moment.

"Jeff! What are you doing out here?"

He grunted once again and rolled over, pushing her off of him. "Jen, I was just about to ask the same question."

She darted to her feet and helped him up. "Sorry about that. But we're on the lookout for a dangerous criminal."

"A dangerous—who?"

"Dr. Wells says that he's a dangerous criminal, all right? You'd better get back to your room before she suspects anything."

Suddenly, the lights in the building all flashed on and a siren went off. Jeff gritted his teeth.

"Shit," he turned towards Jen. "It's been nice knowing you and all, but I've got to run. I'll see you some other time, perhaps."

"What are you talking…" she glanced down. The lights illuminated his blood stained shirt and her eyes widened. You're the criminal?"

"I hate to break it to you, but yes and no—not a criminal."

She stared at him in disbelief until he took her into his arms and kissed her on the lips.

_-! Love 'em and leave 'em kinda guy._

He withdrew and looked back at the blinding lights. He ran away into a nearby hangar. He spotted a Pelican drop ship. He looked around for any other type of ship but couldn't find any. He ran around the side, and ran right into her pilot. He crashed to the ground.

"Hey, watch we're you going! What are you doing here," the pilot growled. Jeff dove on top of him and grabbed his forehead. He tried to scream out, but Jeff forcefully shoved his head into the steel plates of the Pelican. He did so again, and once more. After the third time, he let the pilot's body slide to the ground. He struggled to rise, but Jeff took aim, and kicked him in the face. His shoe hit his head hard, and it slammed into the Pelican again.

He kicked him in the head two more times. Two more metallic clangs from the Pelican sounded throughout the silent hangar. He tried to plead for mercy, but Jeff picked him up and threw him into the metal once again. He positioned the pilot right at the Pelican held his head still with one hand, pushing his head against the steel. And with the other hand, he repeatedly punched him in the back of the head. A sick crunching was heard throughout the hangar.

He dropped the body to the ground once more. He gently to the pilot's arms and positioned his shoe right on top of his spine. With one quick movement, he pushed down with his foot and pulled up on the pilot's arms at the same time. There was a horrible cracking sound this time, and the pilot uttered one last dying scream. It sounded like a wild animal call. It rang in Jeff's ear as he dropped the limp rag doll to the ground. He wiped the blood from his body and smeared it on the pilot's own shirt.

He boarded the pelican, and started it up. The hangar doors had been opened, and he flew through them with a relative ease and left Reach behind.

While he flew, he looked at his blood stained hands. He was a cold hearted killer. Nothing could change that. But when he was with Jen in the courtyard, he felt like nothing could ever move him. He sighed. He had to plan his long journey home…back to Earth.

It was time to get back on track. He had made it back to Earth, catching a little ride on a pirate spacecraft. Jeff cut through slip-space like that.

Someone wanted Jeff out of the picture. And that someone was going to pay…dearly. He was back at his apartment. Nothing much had changed. He was probably a wanted man back on Reach. Those little buggers got in his way.

"It was too bad for them," Jeff said with a sneer. He checked his special device. It acted as a Caller ID, except it penetrated through cell phones and pay phones. It would give you the exact location of where in the city it was from, and other bits of miscellaneous. He found the number of the man who had assigned him the damn job in the first place. That bastard was going to get a nasty little surprise. He set the machine to dial his number. He rang once. Then again. In mid-ring of the third, a voice rang through.

"Who the hell are you, and how did you get this number?"

Jeff forced the anger back down inside of him and spoke with a calm voice. "Good afternoon, my friend. I'm assuming you know who it is?"

"No idea, so speak up."

"You remember promising ten million in cash, right? But that wasn't a promise you could keep, am I correct? Well here's a shocker: Jeff Benson speaking."

There was a long pause, followed by an audible gulp. The voice spoke again. But this time, it seemed raspy. It was almost as if the man had lost his voice in a few seconds.

"J-J-Jeff Benson?" he stammered.

"Is there a problem?"

"N-No problem at all…do you have the plans?"

"Yes."

"How do I know you aren't lying?"

"You'll know…because we'll meet tomorrow, right at the place you proposed when we first spoke."

_-! I don't know if I ever wrote that in, thinking back._

There was another pause, but then the man spoke in a more confident voice.

"Okay, right at that spot. Any time specific?"

"Any time's fine. So you're sure you have the money?"

"Of course I do!" the voice replied, obviously lying.

"Good," Jeff replied, adding menace to his tone, "I'll have you know, it took a long time for me to get this cube. I'll be very angry if something were to happen…for instance, the money isn't there. And I don't think you've seen me angry."

The courage failed the man's voice once more. "Don't worry, Jeff. I'll get it to you. 6:00 pm tomorrow."

"6:00 it is, then. I'll be looking forward to this," Jeff said, his lip curled up in a wicked grin. With that, he hung up and rubbed his hands together. Tomorrow was going to be a big day…a really big day.

He had some business to take care of. He quickly retrieved the cube from his personal computer. He quickly destroyed the files that he had recently downloaded and pocketed the cube. Jeff was about to leave, but then he had a plan. He walked back to his room and stuffed some extra pillows and blankets under the covers of his bed. He stood back and looked at his work. It looked like a sleeping figure. Perfect. He turned off the lights and stepped out into the streets below.

From inside a local pub, a door opened. A shadowy figure stepped into the dimly lit room. Men sat in groups, talking loudly and laughing—having a good time. A few were having a drinking competition, while others occupied themselves with games of darts or at the Pool table. It was quite an "old fashioned" pub. It looked like something styled during the 1940's.

He pulled the collar of his coat higher up his neck and slunk to the counter.

"What'll you have?" the bartender asked. He looked quite young. His blonde hair fell over his eyes once or twice as he filled up a glass with beer and slid it down the counter, the froth almost spilling from the brim.

"Whisky will do, please," Jeff said, taking a seat on a stool. The bartender looked at him suspiciously as he set down a glass and bottle. Jeff poured himself half a glass and took a sip and smiled. Damn, it felt good to be on Earth again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bartender still watching him. Jeff picked up the glass and took a swig, downing the liquid in a single gulp. He rubbed his chin and called the bartender over.

"Yes?"

"Hey, I'm looking for Mr. Travis. Is he here tonight?"

"Why, yes. But he's having a little meeting, and—"

"Where?"

"In the back room, but—"

The bartender was interrupted once again. Jeff stood up and dropped a few coins down on the counter. He picked up and bottle and turned around, silently searching for a door.

"Sir, he asks not to be disturbed. May I ask who you are and why you want to see him?"

"Well, tell him that Jeff is here is see him. He'll know."

The bartender turned around to leave, but stopped. He slowly faced Jeff. "Jeff Benson? You're him?" It looked like the bartender's eyes were going to pop out of his sockets. "Wait here, please." He ran to a door in the corner of the pub. A few minutes later, he returned and gestured for Jeff to follow him in. Jeff walked through the door and was immediately confronted by two men dressed in fashionable suits. They looked like the classic gangsters.

"Hold still, please. Mr. Travis has ordered us to perform a search you," one of them ordered.

Jeff removed his coat and lifted up his arms. They didn't find any weapons on him, but in his jacket, on the other hand, contained his small pistol. One man took the pistol and his bottle of Whiskey, while the other roughly shoved him through the door of the last room. Six men sat at a round table, playing with cards. From the looks of things, it was Poker, another almost ancient game. The bodyguard set down Jeff's pistol and bottle in front of another man at the table. It was Dave Travis.

Jeff allowed himself a small smile.

"Jeff Benson! What a pleasure to see you again!" Dave greeted holding out his arms.

"Dave," Jeff nodded his head.

"Come on and join us, there are extra spots."

"No thanks, Dave."

"But I insist."

"Dave, I have something important to tell you."

"Then tell it after our game. Just play one round, Jeff."

"Oh fine. Then you'll listen?"

"Of course! Anything for my old friend."

Dave was someone Jeff knew he could rely on. Jeff did a few jobs for him sometimes. He was involved in the smuggling business as well.

Jeff sat down in an empty seat. A woman dealt the cards out to everyone.

After a few minutes, all of the players had folded except for Jeff and Dave. How odd. Jeff was lucky at some things after all.

"As lucky as John?" a voice rang through his head.

"No. But if you call being a Spartan 'lucky', I'd probably laugh out loud right now," Jeff thought back at the voice.

"Come on, Jeff. Wouldn't you rather be out kicking ass? Fighting for the UNSC?"

"Hah! I get enough kicking ass right now, as an assassin. Why would I need a team?" Jeff countered.

"Uh, Jeff? Are you still here? We're still in the game. This is our final showdown," Dave's voice interrupted Jeff's mental conversation.

"Hmm? Oh, yes." They quickly flipped their cards. Dave's face was in utter disbelief. They had both gotten straights, but Jeff's ranked higher by just one card. He scowled as he shoved the poker chips in Jeff's direction. Jeff stood up.

"Dave, now we have to talk," Jeff said, walking to another room in the back.

"Right," Dave stood up and followed Jeff.

They entered the small room and Jeff shut the door.

"That was a good game. I was sure I was going to win," Dave said with a sly smile.

"I'm just here for one round anyway. But it doesn't matter. See, I have a proposition. If you help me, that money you just lost will be peanuts."

Dave narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Sit down and listen," Jeff said, gesturing to a chair. "There's going to be a trade off. My loot that I've just stolen. One little cube for…ten million—in cash too."

Dave was silent. He looked up at Jeff and spoke. "And, how does this affect me?"

"You know why I was gone for so long? The bastard had actually set me up. I was imprisoned on Reach. I thought it was going to be a quick little job. Jump into there, and run out. But now, I have the goods. I need your help. I think something twisted is going to happen. I'll give you four million in cash. Hire three more men and pay them. Meet up with me tomorrow. I'll come by here. Be ready with your men—and come armed."

Jeff returned home after that. He had vision like no other. He saw something strange about his doorknob. There were his fingerprints, all right, but they seemed to be a little bit smudged. This little detail wouldn't be visible to even the naked eye…but then again, Jeff was gifted, wasn't he?

Someone had definitely gripped his doorknob. That someone was wearing rubber gloves, too. He opened his door and stared at his apartment. It was totally ransacked. Books were thrown out of the book case and scattered all around. His computer had been turned on. The dishes in his kitchen were lying all over the place…luckily, not broken. Pillows had been thrown from his couch, and vids from his visual projector unit had been thrown around. He walked down the hallway. When he opened his room door, his eyes widened. There were six bullet holes through his blanket. So his trick had worked. His clothes had been thrown around.

He heard a soft _meow_. He peered under his bed and sighed. They had even frightened his pet cat. He offered out his hand, and the small animal crawled out from hiding. Jeff picked it up and stroked its head gently. He walked out and set it down in the hallway. Jeff later recorded the mysterious number down and grimaced. He then got to cleaning up the mess. Later that night, he lay in his bed, lightly fingering the pistol underneath his pillow. Jeff didn't sleep. He wouldn't dare sleep.

The next day, he grabbed his pistol and pocketed it where it usually lay. In the inside compartment of his coat. Jeff checked his watch. It read 5:45. He walked to the pub and found Dave and his three men.

"Alright, here's the plan," Jeff said, beckoning for the four of them to come closer.

After explaining what to do, Jeff whipped out his cellular phone and dialed the number.

"Now, who's this?" the same voice said with annoyance.

"Guess who," Jeff said in his unreasonably calm voice. If you were to hear his voice like that, it was reassuring and creepy at the same time.

"Jeff Benson? Why, why of course it's you!"

"Yes. We're still up for today, then."

"Yeah. What ever gave you the idea that we weren't?

"Well, the simple thing called death sometimes gets into people's ways."

The voice was silent. "Ah, yes. Then, I'll see you in five minutes, Jeff Benson."

Jeff hung up. "Yeah, I'll be seeing you too—dead," he muttered aloud. He turned to the expectant faces. "All right, let's go."

The men grinned and slid fresh clips into their pistols.

They walked down the street. Suddenly, Jeff held up a hand. He told them to go to their designated spots and wait for his signal.

He slipped through a crack and walked down the alleyway. There he was—the man who he vowed to kill, if it would take his life. There he was, just standing there, holding a metal briefcase.

"That'll make a good bludgeoning object," Jeff thought silently. He confronted the man. The man wore dark sunglasses and his hair was slicked in such a hairstyle. He wore a black business jacket and a light blue shirt underneath.

"I finally get to meet the mystery man," Jeff said, holding out his hand.

"Yes, it's quite a pleasure," the man shook Jeff's hand.

"So you have the money?"

"Yes, right here," he held up the briefcase. He laid it flat, and then touched the latch. The lid sprang open. Jeff's eyes lit up as he saw the money.

"How do I know that there's ten million in there," Jeff asked.

"I can take the time to count it out for you," the man said.

"No, it's fine," Jeff replied. He didn't see anything wrong with it. It was as real as anything. "And here's the memory cube," Jeff said, digging in his pocket. He withdrew the cube. He could see the man's eye's light up in turn. He passed the cube over, just as the man passed him the money.

Jeff offered his hand out again and the man clutched Jeff's hand. Jeff smiled and added, "If I ever do business with you again, what's your name, my good friend?"

"Randall Sanderson, but I seriously doubt we'll be doing business together again," Randall said with a little smirk.

"And why do you say that, my friend?" Jeff said, forcing down a little chuckle.

Jeff's extraordinary vision caught a slight twitch in Randall's free hand. Right before he did a hand signal, Jeff drew his gun and fired in the air.

Randall's eyebrows shot up and he screamed, "Fire! Shoot him, now!"

Four gunshots went off in unison. Jeff couldn't contain his grin. But this was no ordinary grin, no; it was a "last look" kind of grin. It was the kind of smile a homicidal maniac would give a victim. Four bodies fell from above—they were Randall's men. Randall stood, frozen in fear. Jeff took these extra few seconds to execute his "moves". First, his hand shot forward and grabbed the cube out of Randall's shaking hand. Jeff's shin flew upwards and caught him in the groin, but before he could fall to the ground, Jeff swung the briefcase at Randall's head. There was a brief sound of impact, followed by Randall's head hitting the pavement.

Jeff dropped the briefcase, pocketed the cube, and then grabbed a second pistol from his pocket with his right hand. Just then, two men ran in from the alleyway behind Randall. They were both bearing rifles. From the look of it, they were upgraded B.A.R.'s…very old guns.

Jeff brought the dual pistols up into view and simultaneously squeezed the triggers. The man staggered back against a brick wall, clutching his chest. The red began to spread throughout his white shirt. It reminded Jeff of blood spreading through the snow. Jeff turned and placed a round into the second man's forehead.

Suddenly, men rushed in from all sides and surrounded Jeff. Boy, Randall wasn't kidding. Jeff could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. A gang member made his move first. He moved forward and swung his metal bar at Jeff's head. He easily missed, and for that mistake, he received four rounds through his gut.

Another man aimed at Jeff with a Semi automatic and fired. Jeff dove down and the rounds flew into another man on the opposite side. Jeff jumped up again, he had dropped his pistols. He didn't even bother to reload. There were other good weapons he could use right here. Jeff wrenched the Semi automatic from the man's grip and shot him in the neck. He turned around and sidestepped. The man who dove at him stumbled right by him and Jeff quickly put the gun to the man's head and let loose.

He paused to survey how many were left.

But that was his mistake. Someone dove at him from behind and they both landed on the ground. Jeff's weapon flew from his hand. He wrestled with the man, and a few seconds later, Jeff jumped up, holding a knife covered in a crimson liquid. Somehow, it reminded him of his butter knife after he had pulled it out of the jar of jam at breakfast.

Two more tried to attack him by fists. Apparently, they liked to rough it out. Too bad for them, so did Jeff. He avoided a blow to the head, and jammed the knife into a man's thigh. He screamed as Jeff pulled it out again, and slashed him across the throat. Just then, he felt something constricting against his throat. He tried to jerk his head around, but he felt someone punch him in the ribs—hard.

He gritted his teeth, trying to shake off the pain but he had dropped his knife. A gang member stepped forward and repeatedly punched him in the stomach. Jeff swore, but he couldn't double over. The chain around his neck made him stand erect, meanwhile ever tightening. With one hand, he gripped the chain, trying to pull it off. With his remaining hand, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his lucky charm—his lighter.

Jeff didn't smoke, but it was amazing how useful a lighter could be…during a bar fight, for instance. He flicked it once and thrust the open flame out behind him. He heard the man scream and loosen his grip. He felt heat on his back. Jeff quickly grabbed the chain from his neck and turned around. The man was completely engulfed in flame. Jeff swung the chain around the palm of his hand and whipped it across the man's agonized face. Jeff's hand searched the ground for a second or two and soon came up with a fully loaded pistol.

"I'll put you out of your misery, bitch," Jeff muttered as he took aim and squeezed the trigger. At point blank, the blood splattered against the wall behind. A small shower of red.

He turned around and quickly slammed his fist into a man's face. He quickly dropped like a stone. Jeff looked at the man's face and saw the chain imprint on his cheek. These gang members attack pretty slow. He strolled forward as the last gang member tried to back off. After a few steps, the man brought his hands forward from behind his back. In one hand, he held the Semi Automatic that Jeff had lost.

Jeff could always shoot the man, but hell, his ring leader was the one who had sent him to Reach, the place where it all began. If it wasn't for Dr. Halsey and her blasted Spartan Program, he would have been a normal citizen. He would have lived a happy life…but no, he was out on the streets. He was killing people for a living. He was killing for money. He was killing for revenge. A quick shot to the head was too good for a dirty bastard who was in contact with Randall Sanderson. But if he lunged forward, it would be all over. The gang member would quickly pull the trigger. Was it worth it? Was it worth it to die just for someone you hate?

"Think of Jen," a voice rang in his head.

"Screw those ONI bastards," Jeff said, taking part in another mental conversation once again.

"Think of your true feelings, Jeff."

"You want to know my true feelings? I'll tell you! I'm going to tear this son of a bitch apart!" Jeff screamed out loud. With that he lunged for the man. He was halfway there. Jeff waited for the loud cackle of gunfire and the searing pain. But it never came. All he heard was a more than satisfying _click!_ Jeff opened his eyes and smiled his famous grin. He stopped running and slowed down to a slow stroll. He was enjoying every second of this. Sweet revenge.

The gang member's face had a look of deep worry. He was desperate as Jeff was only two metres away from him. He took aim once more and squeezed the trigger again and again only to be rewarded with that sweet sound. Jeff grabbed the gun and pulled it from his hand. He bludgeoned the man's face with the butt of the gun. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into a wall. Next, Jeff bent down and retrieved a BAR. He walked over to the man and pulled him to his feet. With frightening speed, he slammed the barrel of the rifle into the man's mouth. Before the man could react, Jeff pulled the trigger. The rounds tore out through the back of his head. Blood painted the brick wall and bits of bone and brain lay by a deep pool of blood. Jeff threw the rifle away and started to walk to the briefcase.

He heard a sound of rustling and turned around. A gang member had a pistol trained on Jeff's head, and Jeff had no weapon to defend himself with. And there was no such luck as running out of ammo this time. He was about to raise his arms in surrender, but a split second later. He heard gunfire and he saw the man being literally torn apart. He gazed at the corpse on the ground. His face was full of blood and was horribly mutilated. The corpse looked like a large dog or wild animal of some sort had just been chewing on it.

Jeff glanced up and saw Dave give him the "okay" signal. He mouthed back "thank you." His eye flitted to the side and fell upon Randall. He was standing up, holding a pistol. Jeff still didn't find himself a gun. He began to walk forward.

"Stay back or I'll shoot!" Randall yelled, raising the gun.

"Yeah, yeah," Jeff muttered. Without a warning, he darted forward and grabbed the pistol with both hands. Randall, acting upon instinct, pulled the trigger. Jeff, luckily, was out of harm's path, and he wrenched the pistol from Randall's grip and flung it aside. Randall tried to grab Jeff, but Jeff kneed him in the gut. Randall quickly recovered, and head butted Jeff, and they both tumbled to the ground. They exchanged blows for while, until Jeff ended up on top. His hand shot out and landed on Randall's throat. His digits came together and his free hand found the discarded pistol. Randall twisted around, but Jeff took advantage and shot him in the leg. He screamed and fell back. Randall tried to scramble up, but his leg gave away. Jeff approached him with a sullen face.

"Randall, Randall, Randall," Jeff said slowly. "You don't know how much I hated to go back there. And to make matters worse, you had me stay there. But for what purpose? You know, you almost make me hate myself for doing this. But only 'almost'. Then, when I think of what you did, I forget that all over again. So here we are."

"Jeff, listen, Jeff! I-I didn't do it for a reason. You gotta listen to me, it wasn't my decision," Randall started to stammer.

"No no, you listen. You are going to die, my friend. I hate your guts. And remember that when you go to hell," Jeff raised the pistol and pointed it at Randall's head. The sunglasses fell away, revealing his eyes. They were wide with fear. Somehow, this pleased Jeff greatly. And then he squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew out of the barrel and entered through Randall's forehead. It stayed there, lodged midway in his brain.

_-! I hinted that the data cube was actually only a setup in the original, which is sort of why Sanderson was dropped from the final version. But during the original run, I completely went around that simply because I wanted to have more action scenes. However, when I was going back over chapter 10 in the rewrite, I cut out this final fight but kept it on a separate document. I think there was a point when I actually still wanted to incorporate it in. _

Jeff crawled over to the briefcase and stood up. Ten million dollars and his memory cube. He was a rich man now. Dave and his men met up with him in the streets, and they walked back with him to the pub—eager to spend their new found wealth.

_-! That was a long, long chapter to go through. The kill count must be way up there now._

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**June 15th 2552. New Vancouver. Present day.**

Fifteen years—fifteen long years had past. Jeff had been quite inactive for his job. He didn't need anymore money just yet. He had more than 5 million left and led a very happy life.

Until, one day, the buzzer of his apartment rang. Jeff swore, and tumbled out of his bed. And he landed on something…rather unpleasant. The edge of a briefcase dug into his back. Jeff stood up and kicked the case of his rifle. He heard the buzzer once more and realized that he had forgotten that someone was at the door.

"Blast it, just wait. I'm coming," Jeff yelled. He lifted up one of his pillows, to find that his pistol was missing. It must've fallen behind his bed. He reached down and quickly and withdrew. He ran to the door and set the pistol down on a table beside him. He opened the door and laid eyes on a familiar face. He just couldn't quite picture it.

"Hello, Jeff," the woman said with a smile. She had blonde hair and she looked like she was around 30.

"And a fine hello to you, ma'am. Uh, do I know you?"

"Oh don't tell me that fifteen years have really gotten into your memory."

Jeff stilled looked blank. But the truth was that the past fifteen years had really gotten to his memory. He never really used his skills to kill any more. He was just a civilian now. But something inside him longed for something—something big.

The woman sighed. "Do you remember Reach?"

"Wait a minute, Jen? It—it is you!" Jeff's smile faded. "How did you find me?"

"Well, I remember you telling me that you would be here."

"Ah, yes," Jeff said. He looked at himself and blushed. He was still in his boxers. "I'll be out shortly."

First, he walked to the table and snatched up his pistol. Then he went to his room. A few minutes later, he strolled out to the kitchen.

"Want something to eat, coffee, perhaps?"

"No thanks. I ate before I came," Jen said, looking around the apartment.

"You sure are an early riser," Jeff said, taking out his coffee machine.

"Yeah, that's what you get for being a marine. And one more thing—it's 11:00 already."

Jeff checked his watched and yawned. He gave a curt nod and turned back to the frying pan. "So, how long are you guys touring the city?"

"What are you talking about? I've finished my training on Reach quite a long time ago. It's kind of like a little break for us after some of the fighting."

"I guess you're here for the long stay, then."

"I guess so. I don't have anywhere else to go."

"How about all your buddies in the Marines?"

"They're all off visiting relatives."

"Do you have somewhere to stay for the night?"

"I could always find a hotel."

"That's not necessary. If you want, you could stay here. I've got extra room," Jeff said, motioning to the hallway.

"That would be great," Jen said, sitting down on the couch. "So, how has life been treating you?"

"It's been quite good, actually—ever since that Reach episode. Not very eventful, though. How's the news at the frontlines?"

"It's still a hard fight. Things don't look so good for the UNSC, I'd almost hate to say. Some have even tried to leave to join the Rebels. But I heard that some day soon, the marines are going to crack down on the Rebel activity and arrest them all."

Jeff turned to face her upon hearing this. "You mean all the Rebels?"

"That's what I said."

Jeff rubbed his chin thoughtfully and spoke, "Then that reminds me. I'll be going on a little business trip soon."

"A business trip? I thought you were a hired assassin."

"Yes, I am. But if you know that, why would you want to come and see me now?"

"Well, Jeff, it's something to do," Jen said with a playful grin.

"If you say so. And what of the Spartans?"

"They're still fighting as well."

"Figures," Jeff muttered. "Did you ever consider me as a dangerous threat, Jen?"

"After what you did to all those marines back at Reach, I have a big reason to believe so. But I don't know, maybe you have a chance to be a respectable soldier. You know, put your skills to a good use. Fight the Covenant."

Jeff shook his head quite violently. "Sorry, Jen, but I really don't plan on being a big part of the UNSC. Or the Rebels, in that matter."

"I see you have a great motive in life," Jen said.

"I see you haven't lost your sense of sarcasm. Is it your first time here?"

"I believe so."

"Come on, then. I'll show you around the city. I'll be out in a bit," Jeff turned around and walked to his room.

Silently, Jen followed along behind. Through a gap in the door, she watched Jeff slide a fresh clip into a pistol and place it into the inside pocket of his coat. He picked out something most peculiar too. A memory cube. And lastly, he pulled a lighter out of his pocket. He grinned and threw it into the air, catching it with two fingers. Jeff strolled towards the door and met up with Jen.

Over the next few days, he spent his time with Jen, getting to know her, and she getting to know him. But of course, there wasn't much history to tell about Jeff. One afternoon, Jeff came out of his room and spoke to Jen.

"I've got to go on that business trip I told you about, so I'll be gone for a little bit. Think you can hold the fort?"

"Sure, but where are you going?"

"That's—confidential," Jeff said, turning towards the door. Unmistakably, she saw the bulge in Jeff's pocket—his pistol. But that didn't mean anything. He took his pistol everywhere he went.

Jeff made his way to the nearest UNSC Air base. Luckily, they didn't keep the base too guarded because Earth wasn't a combat zone. Jeff took out a pair of bolt cutters and got to work on the chain-linked fence. He worked quickly, and after a few minutes, he was inside the perimeter. He ran to the nearest marine guard and tapped him on the shoulder. Just as the marine turned around, Jeff landed a blow to the marine's face. The marine staggered backwards, turned, and hit his forehead on a metal section of a pelican.

A few minutes later, Jeff was airborne and out of the city—out of Earth's atmosphere. He flew around for a little bit, until he saw his destination. An asteroid field had formed there during 2006 CE (_-! Heyo!_), he was told. He moved through the asteroids with a small smile on his face. Jeff flew up to a peculiar looking asteroid and tried to make contact there.

"Asteroid base, come in," Jeff said. Suddenly, on a display panel to his right, a face shown through.

"State your business," the man said.

"I'm here to see your leader. He's an old friend of mine."

"You're the UNSC, we don't want any business with you."

"Ah, but I have some very important information—about the UNSC. And I'm not part of the UNSC either."

"We should blow you to smithereens right now, but our leader is actually telling you to come in. Please fly through the shuttle doors."

Jeff stepped out of the Pelican. A group of men surrounded him and trained their rifles on him. He raised his hands slowly, and then a man stepped out from the others.

He wore a black coat. His black hair had been slicked back and he had a cold expression to his face. Jeff's face lit up in his usually warm expression.

"Steve, it's good to see you!"

The man stared at him and gasped, "Jeff…Benson? You're here? I thought you'd been kidnapped! A child abduction case."

"Well, you thought wrong. Here I am. Real as ever."

Steve directed the men to lower their rifles. "So what are you doing here—in a UNSC ship?"

"Don't let the Pelican fool you. I had to knock some guy out for it, and then fly it out of the Air base. I need some more of those specially crafted rounds of yours."

"Hmm. Did you bring any money with you?"

"Oh hell yeah! You know, we haven't seen each other for years. Did I tell you, I stricken rich?"

"Oh? Well, that's good. They'll be made by tonight. Come and dine with me."

Steve motioned for Jeff to sit in a chair. Music played softly in the background. He eyed the food. Even if they were Rebels, the scoff looked delicious.

A man came around and poured Steve and Jeff a glass of wine. Finally, Steve spoke up.

"I haven't seen you for numerous years. Tell me, have you got yourself a girl and settled down yet?"

"Maybe, it's hard to tell."

"Ah, I expect so, since you are an assassin. So, what about the information you have?"

"Well, from what I've heard, the UNSC is planning an attack on you sometime. Wait, not just you. All the Rebels in every system that they can find."

Steve set down his glass and stared at him. "Where did you find this information?"

"Someone told me."

"Can you explain who this someone is?"

Jeff looked nervous and leaned forward. "All I can say is, a marine."

"A marine? Jesus, Jeff. You said you never wanted to have anything to do with the UNSC. And here you are, talking and exchanging with—with our enemy!"

"Who's enemy? Did I ever tell you, Steve, I never was a Rebel? Plus, she's someone I can trust…I hope," Jeff said, frustration creeping into his voice.

"A female marine? Oh boy, now there's something. Sleeping with the enemy!"

Jeff stood up and slammed his fists into the table. "Now you're going too far. A little piece of information, and now what?"

Just then, a man entered the room and spoke to Steve.

"So, you're right, Jeff. Phil has just told me that there are a few pelicans full of Marine inbound to our location."

"And what are you going to do?"

"If they're bent on taking us out, they're sadly mistaken. Phil, tell everyone to resort to battle stations."

The man—Phil, grinned and ran out of the room. Steve stood up and took a swig from his glass.

"Come on, Jeff. Don't you want to watch the spectacle?"

"I'll be right up, Steve," Jeff said, picking up the wine bottle.

Steve and Jeff sat up in the control room that overlooked the shuttle bay. There was a deck that ran all around the bay—with mounted machine gun turrets. It was going to be one hell of a fight for the marines to win. A beep sounded and there was an Admiral's face on the display panel.

"Rebel leader, I am Admiral Wilks, and y'all are under arrest. Throw down your weapons or prepare to be defeated," the Admiral said in his Texan drawl.

"Admiral, I am Steve Blackmoore. If you think that I will allow myself and base to be taken over by the UNSC, you are sadly mistaken," Steve paused and looked at Jeff. He had a twinkle to his eye. He winked once, and without a warning, he grabbed Jeff by the arm and pushed him in front of the screen and forced his arms behind him.

"Just play along, Jeff," Steve whispered. Turning back to the screen, he announced, "Admiral, as you see, we have a civilian hostage. It would be a shame to see the UNSC kill a good citizen."

"Damnit, you certainly have a way with people. (_-! Worst Admiral ever_.) Prepare to be boarded, Steve. And may the best man win," the Admiral cut off the link.

The first three Pelicans glided through the shuttle bay. And as soon as the first marine jumped out, the Rebels opened fire with their turrets. Gunfire rained down on the marines. In fact, it was just like rain. There was no way to escape it. Jeff watched the marines being mowed down like—like nothing! Some tried to hide behind steel crates, but the rounds were just too powerful. They flew right through the crates…shattering the wooden ones too. Once every marine had been cut down, the Admiral came on again.

"Well, Steve. You've won round one. I am going to take you down," the Admiral spat.

Jeff stared at the display. He saw something in the background that was quite unpleasant, the orange glimmer of a visor. Spartans were coming.

"Jesus Christ," Jeff stammered as soon as the Admiral ended the conversation.

"What's wrong?"

"Spartans," Jeff slumped down in his seat.

"What's wrong with Spartans?"

"Their armour is protective against bullets. They've taken Covenant technology! It's game over."

Steve was an intelligent man. He looked thoughtful. "They can survive hits from Plasma and bullets, aye? But nobody, I repeat, nobody, can withstand pure fire. Or Zero Gee when I'm done with them," he said with a maniac grin.

Jeff stood, frozen in place. Steve was planning to blow the whole shuttle bay off the base! He watched as Steve ordered his men to abandon the gun turrets and bring various explosives to the shuttle bay—one shot to a crate would ignite the whole place.

The bay doors opened, and a two pelicans slowly drifted through. The green armoured warriors jumped out, weapons rose.

Jeff could see the slight twitch of Steve's lips as he hefted his sniper rifle—not the standard military issue, though.

Suddenly, a thought hit him hard. If the Spartans were killed, who would win the Covenant war? The marines certainly weren't enough. Just before Steve pulled the trigger, Jeff's arm shot out and pushed the barrel out of line.

The round flew out and hit a Spartan in the shoulder instead of a barrel. Yellow lines wavered over the armour like electricity.

Steve withdrew and looked at Jeff angrily.

"I can't let you do it, Steve. They are the only hope to defeating the Covenant!"

"Well I can't help that, can I," Steve muttered. "I'd almost hate to do this to you, but it's for your own good. I can't have you muddling around in my affairs. If I want those bastards dead, I'll have them dead. I don't need a personal advisor."

"Then you'll forgive for this, then," Jeff said with a cold voice. Before Steve caught on, Jeff ran at him and tackled him by the waist. They both tumbled to the ground; the rifle falling inches away from Steve's curled up fist. Jeff grabbed Steve by the collar of his white shirt and repeatedly ran his fist into Steve's forehead. Catching him by surprise, Steve whipped out his free hand and caught Jeff in the cheek, then, his second fist to Jeff's gut. Jeff exhaled sharply—winded by the blow. Steve scrambled up and kicked Jeff in the face with the heel of his shoe. Jeff swore and fell to the ground. With one hand, he grabbed a loose chair and hurled it at Steve. It literally clobbered him. Steve ran to a doorway and found a long chain. He wrapped the end of it around his fist, and used the rest of it as a whip.

Jeff sighed and reached for his pistol. He felt around for a few seconds and froze. It had probably fallen out when he tackled Steve.

"Right," Jeff said, just before he ran out the opposite door—onto the catwalk. Just then, he heard a rifle fire and he dove to the ground. The Spartans were firing at him! His hand fell across something rather pleasant—a metal bar. He snatched it up and got to his feet. Steve was slowly walking to him, his chain-whip ready. Jeff came into range, and Steve lashed out with his chain. Jeff easily countered the attack, but the chain wrapped around the bar. They both pulled at the same time, but it was a hopeless game of tug o' war. Jeff pulled the bar toward him once more and grabbed the mid section of the chain. He then used it to whip out at Steve. When Steve caught the bar in one hand, Jeff raised an eyebrow, and quickly turned to the railing. There, he tried to tie the chain there. But Steve got to him first. He struck Jeff in the back with a sharp blow with the metal bar. Jeff fell to the catwalk deck. Steve reached inside his jacket and pulled out his own pistol.

_-! The rewritten chapter 11 features what went into this scene. I wanted to have a fight scene in an industrial setting and that's pretty much that._

Jeff's foot shot out and hit Steve's shin. He dropped to the deck, and Jeff jumped on top of him once more. He grabbed the chain out of Steve's hand and quickly wrapped it around Steve's neck and pulled. Steve gave a muffled yelp and elbowed Jeff hard in the stomach. Steve whirled around and backhanded Jeff in the face. Next, he head butted him so Jeff fell to the floor. Jeff reached out behind him and found Steve's pistol. He sprang up, and Steve lunged at him. Jeff didn't have any time to thumb the safety and fire. They wrestled for control of the gun, while throwing punches and kicks. Jeff shoved the pistol downwards and grabbed hold of Steve's face. Steve tried to grab Jeff's arm, but he couldn't pull it off. Jeff drove his arm forward and rammed the back of Steve's head into a support pole the connected the catwalk to the ceiling. Steve loosened his grip on the pistol, and Jeff wrenched it free. He stepped back and raised it up, only for it to be kicked out of his hand. It clattered on the deck once more.

Steve got Jeff into a headlock, and smashed his fist into Jeff's head. Next, he threw him down and brutally kicked him in the side. Jeff scrambled away and found useful tool—a metal stick. It was flat and looked quite sharp on the edges. He took an overhead swing at Steve, but he took a step back and picked up the original metal bar. Steve took a sideswipe at Jeff's head and Jeff raised his "blade" to protect his head. They duelled with their weapons, dancing all over the deck, taking swings and slashes at each other. Steve stuck his blade out, hoping to drive it right through Jeff, but it was countered with a circular swing, forcing the bar to the side. Jeff quickly took this opportunity and took another overhead swipe and they locked up their weapons, trying to force each other off balance.

"Damnit, Jeff. Why don't you just return to Earth?"

"Because, I need those rounds of yours."

_-! Man I fucked that one up. I didn't even mention that the first time I don't think._

"Hell, you're not getting any of 'em," Steve spat.

Jeff pushed forward and Steve staggered away. Jeff kicked him in the back and brought his blade up, but suddenly, Steve whipped his bar across Jeff's face, leaving a nasty gash. Then, Steve slammed the bar into Jeff's leg. He fell to the ground, winded.

He looked at Steve with defeat in his eyes. But Steve had no means of mercy left in him. He threw his bar aside and pulled out a switch blade.

"It ends now, Jeff. You didn't have to choose this way," Steve said, pulling out the blade, slowly moving towards him.

"No, Steve. You don't have to do this," Jeff said, his hand slowly sneaking towards his blade.

"Too bad, Jeff. It was nice knowing you," Steve said, raising the blade.

Before he could strike, Jeff grabbed hold of the blade and swung it at Steve. He jumped back, but Jeff sprang up. And he did the possibly—the stupidest thing ever in his life. He grabbed Steve's blade with his bare hand without realizing it—his bare hands! No gloves to protect them. Steve pulled the knife back, and Jeff screamed in agony. He caught a quick look at his hand. The blade had torn through the flesh, and the blood dripped to the deck.

"Bastard," Jeff whispered. He lunged forward, into a shocked Steve. He slammed the tip of the blade into Steve's forehead, drawing blood. Steve slumped down against the railing, and Jeff repeatedly slammed the blade into Steve's head. Steve reached a hand out to plead for mercy, but Jeff just trod on his fingers. He kicked Steve in the face and ran over to Steve's fallen pistol. He walked right up to Steve and sighed. Without a second thought, Jeff squeezed the trigger—three times. Steve slumped dead, blood pouring out of his mouth and deep bloody gashes in his head. He walked back down to the Spartans, for he had nowhere else to go. He limped over to the waiting pelicans, gripping the metal instrument tightly in one hand—the injured hand. The blood ran down the rusty metal and dripped on the ground. His leg hurt like hell, but he could manage.

The Spartans surrounded him and trained their weapons on him.

"Rebel, you're under arrest," one of them spoke out.

"Who're you calling a Rebel? I'm no Rebel," Jeff twisted his face in pain.

"Wait, he's not a Rebel," a familiar voice sounded.

Jeff looked up. They all looked the same to him.

"Jeff Benson, you're under arrest for mingling with these pirates," John commanded, motioning for one of the other Spartans to arrest him.

"So, what were you doing in the base?" a female voice said through a visor in front of Jeff.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," Jeff said, wincing slightly as he took a look at his hand.

"Here, let me take a look at that," the Spartan said leaning backwards to grab a medical kit off a hook.

Jeff pulled away. "No, it's fine. I don't trust you Spartans anyway," he said bitterly, turning to face a wall.

"God damnit, do I look like I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Well, I have to say, no. But—"

"Then hold still, or at least let me examine your wound," the Spartan said, reaching forward.

"Oh fine," Jeff held out his hand. He couldn't put up a fight. He was dead tired. Maybe some medical attention would really do him some good.

The Spartan removed her helmet and released her hair from a bun. She sighed and added, "I hate those damn helmets. They just boggle one's vision. But the Doctor said that it's for our own protection. I just think it interferes with my vision, and it doesn't let people really see my face."

Jeff couldn't contain a smile. "Me and you—we think alike."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, but how does it interfere with your vision?"

"I'm second best sniper to the Spartan team. Second to Linda, who never complains about anything."

"I can imagine," Jeff said, jolting from the pain in his hand. "Jesus, watch what you're doing! It stings!"

"What do you expect, Mr. Benson," the Spartan said wryly, "you've got rust in your wound. I've got to clean it out first, before I bandage it."

"Ah," Jeff leaned back and thought of Jen. He looked at the Spartan. Her hair was a dirty blonde, and her thin lips were tilted to a frown…even though her eyes seemed happy.

"You know, I don't know why they want to arrest you. You saved our lives, didn't you?"

"Yeah, that I did," Jeff muttered sadly, thinking of Steve.

"And you killed the Rebel leader, doing our job. You know, maybe you should join the Spartans—"

"No!" Jeff's sharp answer rang through the Pelican, and some of the Spartans stirred from their sleep. Even the Spartan in front of him seemed shocked. "Sorry about that, but no thanks. I have never planned on becoming like you and your team."

"But your skills would be a great addition to the team! And Dr. Wells, don't know if you've met her yet," the Spartan was again cut off.

"Yes…I have," Jeff tried to hide the bitter look on his face.

"Well, she's created a new method of augmentation. Just tell me if you want to join, then," the Spartan said, finishing off bandaging Jeff's palm. Next, she got to work on the gash situated on Jeff's face. "Ooh, that might leave a scar, I'm afraid. But I'll do my best to patch you up."

"I don't think I caught your name," Jeff said, flinching from the cloth that the Spartan rubbed across his forehead.

"You can just call me Brooke."

"Okay…Brooke," Jeff smiled at her.

_-! This marks the introduction of __**Brooke Fields**__. She would later become Jeff's Spartan buddy. Jen couldn't be in this part of the story, so Brooke arrived to fill her shoes. Later on, when Wells, Brooke, and "The Project" became rolled into one, in the planned sequel 000 Reborn, Brooke needed a much larger role in the rewrite. Jen was too simple, there only to comfort Jeff (after he completed his murderous bouts, which she seemed totally okay with). Brooke was as deadly as Jeff as Operative 231 (something totally random I made up at four in the morning while finishing the new chapter 14), and the two became a team. _

_At this point, while I was watching Chuck, I liked the dynamic between Chuck and his partner Sarah, and they introduced an element in the Pilot episode I really liked. Sarah was a dangerous killer, and had a deadly secret they threw in at the end of the episode. This was of course debunked by episode two and settled much too quickly, but the idea of having a partner slash friend who is just as likely to kill you as well as your enemies stuck with me. In the rewrite, right from the get-go, she was in charge. Jeff was just along for the ride. (I would like to note, Brooke was not modeled after the beautiful and very talented Yvonne Strahovsky.)_

In return, she smiled back.

Jeff sat in a chair at the UNSC Air base. He was being charged with assault against a marine. Also, they were nailing him for stealing one of their pelicans. Jeff dug into his wallet and pulled out enough money to bail him out.

_-! Apparently when I wrote this I had no concept of high treason._

Out on the street, he supposed that he had to walk home. Unexpectedly, Jen pulled up in his car. He looked ashamed, but covered up with a little grin.

"Hi, Jen," Jeff waved.

"Just get into the car. Tell me the details back at your apartment."

While they were driving back, the shock suddenly hit Jeff like a lightning bolt. Only now he realized that he had murdered his only best friend.

"Oh dear god, why?" Jeff murmured and ran a finger over the scar on his forehead.

"What's wrong?"

"I killed him. I had to," Jeff replied with a blank stare.

_-! That was a really long chapter too. Hard to read through. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all._

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**June 30th, 2552. New Vancouver, Present day**

Jeff awoke to the smell of sausages, pancakes and other delectable foods.

Breakfast.

"Unnghh…" he mumbled. Jeff sat up. "Must have been some hangover."

He climbed out of bed and got dressed. In his kitchen, he found Jen, sitting at the table. She was contentedly reading the newspaper and sipping coffee from a fairly large mug.

"Something to eat?" Jen asked, folding up the paper.

"Hmm? No thanks, I'll pass," Jeff replied almost as if he were a zombie. Though, he staggered to his toaster and started it up.

"So what's up?" Jen looked at him with concerned eyes.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Everything's fine."

"I know you're still getting over the event at the Rebel base. But if you keep this up, you'll be needing therapy, Jeff."

"Therapy? I'd like it with butter, please," Jeff said, apparently not paying attention. His eyes stared at a wall, with a distant far out look. Jen sighed upon seeing this.

In Jeff's mind, he was taking part in another of his famous mental conversations.

"You'll get over it, Jeff. It's only guilt."

He was quite surprised to hear this—especially because it was coming from his "conscience". But was he really pure evil? What about the positive side of him. There was always the 'Angel' and the 'Devil' of a person. Had his been destroyed at Reach? When he'd learned to hate those bastards? He'd never know.

"Yes, guilt. But it's not the same kind of guilt as a little white lie. No, I don't expect you to understand. See, you've never killed a good friend." Jeff's devil spoke up.

Jeff decided to jump in. Unfortunately, he spoke aloud. "Oh come now, usually, it's the Angel battling against the Devil. What of myself? It's the Devil sticking up for me, fighting against my conscience. And what of my Angel?"

Jen shot him such a look upon hearing this, but he ignored it and continued bickering.

"Really, Jeff, inside you, you don't even care what happened to Steve. You never even talked of him your entire life after you escaped from Reach," his conscience said as a-matter-of-factly.

"What are you talking about? Did the fact, I never knew where he was until a few days ago get inside your head? And one more thing: inside me? Conscience, you are the inside of me."

A voice perked up from the back of his head. It sounded odd, and far away. The sound was distorted…almost like bad reception in a transmission. "Then how did you know he was a Rebel leader?"

Jeff was rendered speechless. But when he spoke up, he seemed quite angry. And again, he forgot that he was supposed to be thinking out his comebacks. "Why, you dirty…I oughta—well, I've got news for you. I do give a damn, all right? So get off my case, you f—"

"Jeff!" Jen looked at him sharply. "Watch it—your toast!"

The smell of burnt bread brought him back to reality. "Oop." Jeff shut off the small appliance and staggered to a chair and plopped himself down.

Jen gave him a smile encouraging smile. "I think you need one more day of rest. Don't worry, I'll make you breakfast," she said, almost motherly.

"It's all right, Jen. I'm fine. I just…need a whiff of fresh air."

"Hah. Do you think I'd let you out, after pulling a stunt like that? Knowing you, you might run off. No, you're staying here."

"Yes, dear," Jeff said half-heartedly.

She smiled at him, but she firmly pointed at the couch in his "rec room". He had no choice but to throw up his hands in defeat and stroll to the next room.

After that, they just sat there, watching the Visual Projector Unit whilst enjoying each other's company. They shared laughs and all that. It might have been one of the only rare times Jeff had felt…good. It was quite odd.

Later that night, Jen went to check on Jeff in his room. "So, how're you feeling?"

"Quite all right. You know, I'm not ill or anything. Just tired."

"Well, exhaustion is known to kill."

Jeff laughed out loud. He just didn't know why.

"It's not a laughing matter. I learned that in the marines."

He stood up. "You know, that's just downright weird. The marines are all about physical exertion and the like. In a field situation, there's no such thing as a 'break'."

"Oh? Why do you think there are so many marines, Mr. Wise-ass?"

Without thinking, he answered, "Because we still don't have enough to win the war." Jeff immediately wished he hadn't said that.

Jen seemed like she was about to slap him. "Why you pessimistic, scratched-up—"

"Who're you calling a 'scratched-up'? I'm in top physical condition—"

Without a warning, Jen's hand shot out and jabbed him in the side. He doubled over in pain. "Top physical condition? Hah!"

"Now that's not funny," Jeff held up a hand, his face still contorted with pain. He stood up to his full height. "Say, did you have any other lovers?"

"Lovers? Let's see…"

"None? What about in your Advanced Education Centre?"

"Well," Jen blushed. "There was one. But, I don't see him anymore. As it turns out, he was a criminal mastermind. He's in Prison now."

"Oh? What was his name?"

"Chris Duncan, but why would it concern you?"

In fact, the name brought up many…thoughts. "It's nothing. Err, it doesn't."

"Well, what about you?"

"What about me, what?"

Jen inched closer to him. "Did you have anyone?"

"No," Jeff said bluntly.

"No? But what about in your Education centre?"

"No, remember, I didn't go there. I was drafted as a Spartan. I received most of my education during the program," Jeff paused and they moved closer together. "But I do believe you're a first."

Jen smiled. "And have you ever received a kiss before?"

"That depends, I gave you one at Reach…" but Jeff didn't continue. Jen wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and their lips touched.

"You know, I never did thank you for letting me stay here," Jen said, pausing.

"It doesn't matter. I'm always happy to have company."

They kissed once again. This time, it was deep—very deep.

_-! In case that didn't come out clearly… they got their fuck on. ;)_

Jeff groaned and rolled over, only for his hand to feel…skin. And flesh. Jeff rolled back over and focussed his vision. In front of him was the naked form of Jen. Jeff looked away and crawled out of bed. He quickly found some clothes and pulled the covers over Jen.

Now, he must have been drunk…but he didn't feel sick or anything. But that was one night's memory he wouldn't try to suppress.

He walked out of the building and breathed in the warm summer air of the morning. The rising sun looked like a picture from one's vivid imagination. People were up and about, getting to work, going on walks…everything an average citizen did.

He was just going to go for a little run. Jeff had put a note on the table addressed to Jen. He clearly stated that he'd be back in time for lunch.

After his run, Jeff decided to go to a café and have a little breakfast. He ordered and went into the Men's Room. After he came out, he saw almost everyone in the café looking out the window. Jeff turned to the nearest spectator.

"What's all the fuss?"

"You haven't heard? Or seen? The Spartans are here for some unknown reason."

_-! In the future, people talk like this. Count on it._

Jeff's throat tightened. The Spartans had arrived. Why? Obviously, it was just to garrison on Earth. Jeff reassured himself with that answer. But Jen had talked about that they were planning to go to New Mombassa, Africa. He caught a glimpse of the Pelican. Only six Spartans jumped out of the back. They seemed to be unarmed. One of them turned to look at the café window. Even through the orange-yellow visor, Jeff could swear the Spartan was looking directly at him. When they all started to walk towards the café, it was enough evidence that they were coming after him.

Jeff backed away with a horrified and shocked look on his face. Some of the people in the café looked at him.

"Are you all right?"

"He looks almost as if he's ready to faint."

"Here, buddy, sit down."

Jeff's eyes widened even more as the Spartans began to quicken their pace. They somehow saw him back off.

"Oh shit," Jeff whirled around and began to sprint out the back door.

"Oh my god, the Spartans are running right at us!" a cry came out from the crowd. Jeff heard glass breaking just as he slammed into the back door and came out into an alleyway. Without thinking, he just tore down the wet pavement. He could hear the quick steps of the Spartans not far behind him. His head whipped around and he caught a glimpse of the hulking green monsters.

He nearly tripped, but he regained his balance and kept on running. Jeff almost ran past what he was looking for. His shoes "skidded" on the pavement. He jumped on the ladder that was attached to the side of a building, and began to climb the rungs. Just as he reached the top, he felt the whole platform ladder lurch beneath him. He quickly grabbed onto the edge of the building. The ladders, along with its platforms, were ripped out from the wall. It was completely detached from the building.

Jeff emitted a very nasty swear word, but swung his legs over the side of the building and ran across the roof. He found a door and ran down the stairs. He was at a hotel…and it seemed to be a very nice one, at that. He ran out the lounge and through the grand double doors. He looked left and saw two Spartans coming right for him. Jeff took off once again down the sidewalk. He weaved through the crowds of people, but the Spartans were gaining. He looked ahead and almost fell over again.

Two more Spartans were blocking his path on the walk. Jeff performed quite a stupid stunt…he jumped headfirst into the traffic. Jeff ran around them, dodging them all, and he even jumped on top of the cars' hoods. The Spartans didn't have any trouble. They could jump like hell as well as run. Jeff ran straight into another alleyway, taking various twists and turns. After a while, he was sure he had lost them.

He leaned against a brick wall and caught his breath. His heart was pounding against his chest as if it were a loud rhythmic drum. He walked down the alleyway and stopped. It was a dead end. The only exit was blocked off by a steel barred fence. Jeff peered around, and saw another ladder that climbed up a building. But the only thing was that the ladder was too high to reach. Jeff spotted a large dumpster. And to his luck, it was on wheels. He pushed it under the ladder and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

He peeked out from behind a corner.

No Spartans.

Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. He was about to walk back to the dumpster, but he heard a clunk! Jeff turned around and came face to face with two Spartans. They towered over him, no doubt about that. He was a midget compared to these. They were easily over seven feet. Jeff whirled around and made a break for the dumpster. He dove at it, but in mid-air, he felt something tighten around his leg. His head slammed into the hard metal dumpster, and he fell to the ground. Jeff didn't have it in him to struggle. The run had tired him out. His head throbbed, and the next thing after that, his vision blurred and he just blacked out.

_-! That wasn't bad. I used some of this in the rewritten chapter 11. That marked the end of the original storyline, I might say._

"Create a new record for Jeff Benson and get ready for his augmentations."

"Yes ma'am."

Jeff opened an eye and heard the swish of a door. He turned his head and saw a white lab coat.

"Oh shit," he thought once again. He had been stripped to only his boxers, and his limbs were held to the operating table by metal "clamps".

"Ah, Spartan 000, we meet again." An all too familiar voice said.

"Dr. Wells, it's good to see you, too," Jeff answered sarcastically with a disgusted look on his face.

"Well, you should have stayed on Reach. Now, we'll be forced to turn you into a Spartan."

"I wouldn't say 'forced'. You could always turn back."

"I don't think so. You'll wake up in a few weeks from now. You're going to be completely sedated during that time. We can't afford to halt the operation."

Jeff exploded. "A few weeks? What about—"

"Jen? She's going back to the frontlines in a week or so. Now, hold still."

Jeff looked at her with cruel eyes of glass. "You stupid bitch, you. I should have killed you back at Reach."

"Ah, but you didn't. Didn't you know I would be coming after you? Anyways, you can't deny the fact that you have a good heart at times. So, here I am, alive and well."

He didn't reply to that. "How do you know this isn't going to kill me?"

"Your chances are 8-2, your favour. But there's still a little chance you might," she paused, "slip."

Dr. Wells picked up a mask attached by a tube to a machine. She held it over his head, but he turned away from her. "Not being co-operative, are we?"

She sighed and set the mask down. Then, Dr. Wells found Jeff's pressure point and pushed down on it…hard. She quickly clapped the mask over his mouth and nose and turned the machine on.

Gas! It filled his lungs. He gagged, but nothing would stop it. His head lolled, and the last thing he saw was the bright light above him.

* * *

_**Chapter 13**_

_-! As stated above, I had to rewrite 13, and now that I think about it, I changed 12 to match up with this just a little. In the original, I had no intentions of doing the Spartan storyline, until I realized that's what the story was called. Oops._

**August 21st, 2552. New Vancouver, Present day**

He rose slowly from the covers, the sunlight streaming into his face. Jeff stretched his arms over his head and yawned, but he immediately put them to his sides. They stung like hell—almost as if he'd been beaten up…twice…in one night, too.

Whatever it was, it wasn't a good feeling.

He began to stand up, but his knees buckled and weakly gave away, and he fell to the ground with a surprised grunt. Jeff had no leg strength to support himself. He crawled down the hallway with much effort and dragged himself up on his couch.

He gazed at his clock, and his eyes widened. It read 21st of August. He was asleep for three weeks? Impossible!

"I see you woke up, Jeff."

Jeff's neck screamed in protest, as his head swiveled to meet the voice. It was Wells.

"What's going on?" he seemed exhausted just to move his jaw.

Her lips parted in a small smile. "Apparently, it's checkmate, Jeff. We got you fair and square."

"Bullshit. You used Halsey's toys to play. And you know as well as I, that isn't fair."

The doctor laughed, and set her eyes on Jeff's eyes. "Fair, because I knew you could easily outwit them."

"Who—John? I would laugh right now, if it didn't hurt so much. It's anyone's guess that his head would explode from his knowledge if it weren't half metal," Jeff spat out.

"Bone grafts," she corrected, but continued, "and yet, you're so much more intelligent than any one of them. You've just let yourself," she paused, looking for the right word, "rot away."

"Well, get this: I'd rather live the good life, instead of fighting the good fight."

"For someone as talented as you, they'd be happy to use their skills."

"Me? Talented? Oh, you're right. I could learn to play the Cello!"

"Jeff," Wells voice cut through the sarcasm. "Let's be serious here."

"I am!" Jeff's eyes narrowed. "Seriously, you've wasted your time on me. I'm wasted talent, Doctor."

"Bullshit, Jeff," the doctor said quietly, "You know you're twice the man you used to be. The UNSC needs you."

He shook his head. "The mind's set. As much as I love my job, I don't want to kill Covies." Jeff's hand reached down under the cushions, and felt metal. "Now, please leave. And never come back," he added.

Wells cocked her head, and crossed her arms. "Do you know what makes you so unique, Jeff?"

Jeff's arm whipped out from under, with a black pistol gripped firmly in his hand. He stood him to the best of his ability. "Two strikes, doctor. So get the hell out of my flat."

She ignored him. "I'll tell you what makes you so unique. Go on. Go and shoot me."

He thumbed the safety and replied, "Gladly." He then proceeded to squeeze the trigger. Wells visibly flinched. But the bullet never came—Jeff never fired the gun. His arm began to shake uncontrollably, and the pistol clattered to the floor.

The doctor smoothed her lab coat, and straightened out her hair.

"I must tell you now, Jeff, you're different than the other Spartans. We thought of your defiance, and I created something especially for you. To make this simple and easy to understand…after days of neurosurgery, done by myself, whenever you even think of harming a UNSC soldier or civilian, the signal, from your brain that tells your hand to pull the trigger, freezes." Her eyes locked onto his, and her gaze burned deep. "What can I say, Jeff? You're one of a kind."

He eased himself back onto the couch, and closed his eyes. Jeff's weary face had a look of resentment, and he blew an exasperated sigh. "It was fun while it lasted, Wells. Good game, I guess. Maybe next time, you'll play by my rules."

The doctor brushed a lock of hair off of her face. "Good. I'm glad you're beginning to understand how crucial you are. You're booked on the five o'clock to Reach. You'll begin your training two days from now," she paused, and then addressed him, "Spartan 000."

_-! The trigger idea I had for a long time. It was used in something else sort of recently (maybe Alias?), so I got rid of the idea. But originally, when I wanted to do 000 Reborn, Jeff was supposed to kill himself in the end by overcoming the mental trigger. _

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**August 23rd, 2552. Reach, Present Day**

"Is this it?" Jeff whispered to Doctor Wells, as he approached around thirty Spartans. "Whatever happened to the seventy that was here before I left?"

One armour-clad soldier stood up, and addressed Jeff. "The augmentation wiped most of us off."

Jeff nodded solemnly. "My God, that's terrible." He turned to Wells and made a face. "Damned miraculous hearing—it's eavesdropping if you ask me." Jeff smiled politely at the Spartan who had spoken, and began to walk faster.

"Losing nerve, are we?" Wells smiled mischievously at her newest subject.

"I can probably take one of them on in a fair fight… maybe three, if I had a rifle. But thirty angry men with 'roids?"

There was a huff of irritation from one of them. "There are females here, too."

"Really? I hadn't noticed—" Jeff was quickly dragged out of the room by Wells.

"You haven't even been here five minutes, and already you're picking fights?"

"Well, Doctor, I've been here ten minutes… You can say I don't like them."

"Jeff, you've only talked to two of them. Or even just remarked at them. You're going to spend the rest of your soldier career with them, whether you like it or not. Now, follow me." With that, she strode off.

"They're not normal, you know!" he called after her.

"I can't believe you did that, Jeff."

"Well, he was asking for it."

_-! That was pretty awkward to write. The next bit is too, but the action sequence wasn't all bad._

Three Spartans were sprawled out beside Jeff in their quarters. They'd stripped out of their armour, and segments were scattered on racks along the walls of the room. The only reason Jeff was actually speaking with them was because he'd met them briefly on his short stay when he was six.

The door squeaked open, and another Spartan walked in.

"Jeff? I didn't see you come in."

He eyed the Spartan. "Sorry about me having to ask, but who're you?"

"Ah, that's right." The Spartan removed his helmet. "You haven't been with us all this time."

Jeff's face remained blank. "I'm going to have to say 'hit me'."

The Spartan snorted and rolled his eyes. "And they call you intelligent. It's Karl."

"It doesn't ring a bell anywhere, Karl, but what's up anyway?"

Karl laughed. "I hear you ran a show down by the obstacle course. What happened?"

The Spartan beside Jeff, who he'd met during the Spartan raid on the Rebel base named Brooke, spoke up.

"Jeff put one in the Drill Sergeant's leg and belted him in the face. It…wasn't pretty."

"Nobody orders me around." Jeff nodded, then added, "Unless there's money involved. If there's money, then I'm okay with working along with some bossy old…guy. I reassure myself that I'd kill the bastard afterwards, anyway."

He received concerned stares from the rest of the Spartans.

"That's kind of the thing with military. People tell you what to do." Karl sat down in a chair. "Whatever the case, I reckon the ONI docs are going to have a hard time re-aligning his jaw," he stated, "That's probably some considerable offense."

"Eh, say what you want, Karl, I never really liked the Sergeant anyway." The Spartan across from Jeff looked up from his book.

"Hold that thought, Dan. I'm gonna pop out for a bit of air. I'll be back in a sec." Jeff closed the door behind him.

He exhaled sharply, and glanced down the hallway. It was unbearable. He knew some of them as kids—normal human beings. Now? Now it seemed they were robots. Well, for the most part, they didn't seem real

"Making new friends, Jeff?" Wells strolled down the hallway, clutching a clipboard to her breast.

"No, and again, I say they're not normal. Hell, it's like talking to a computer…except computers are much more entertaining. Unless that suit of armour of theirs' can play music or show vids, I'm standing on my opinion."

"In a week's time, you're going to be receiving the same armour and deployed in the frontlines. Now, you'd better talk to your comrades and become friends because they have the liability to leave you to die in a combat situation." He noticed she emphasized the word 'friends'.

Jeff was silent for a moment. "That's disconcerting."

"That's correct. Now go back inside."

"I can't believe I died for this cruel torture."

"You didn't, remember? You're standing in front of me. Alive and healthy, I must add. You're far from dead."

"It sure doesn't feel it."

"Suck it up, and get back in there. Now!"

Jeff gave a huff of irritation, but obeyed reluctantly. A few hours later, spent by talking about virtually nothing, Jeff lay in his cot, nearly asleep. But he could feel someone watching him. Out of the corner of his vision, without making the slightest movement, he saw Brooke's eyes blaze out of the darkness, watching him, surveying him, examining him, and silently analyzing him!

Without making eye contact, he addressed her, "You know, I get a mite uncomfortable when people stare at me. Especially without blinking, too." When he rolled over, Brooke's gaze lowered, embarrassed.

"Sorry. I have…other things on my mind, Jeff."

He nodded, and stared at the ceiling. "Well, don't do it again." After a moment, he turned to face her. "Say, what do you guys do for fun over here?"

In the dark, Jeff's eyes saw her face brighten, and her lips parted into a smile. It quickly vanished, and she replied, "You'll see in the morning. Just get a good rest. You'll need it."

"Ah! That's right. I haven't had a night's rest since… way back when. Perhaps training won't be all that bad…finally some relaxation."

But it was not to be.

He had barely closed his eyes, when he was shook awake. Brooke stood over him with an expectant look on her face.

"What's the idea?" Jeff rubbed his eyes. "I just fell asleep!" He lowered his head. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

Brooke strode over to the window, and pulled open the blinds. Sunlight splashed across his face. He covered his eyes and groaned.

"You've slept 5 hours already, Jeff. That's more than enough sleep than you need."

"Are you kidding? I should get ten hours each day!"

"You're abandoning those lazy habits now. So. Get. Up." Brooke roughly hauled him to his feet. "I think you'll like today's exercise."

"Ah, more drill Sergeants to beat on?"

Brooke ignored his comment and disappeared down the hall.

Jeff sighed and flopped back down on his bed, and thought, "Training sucks."

"All right, Spartans!" The instructor blew a whistle, and waved his hand is a circular motion. When they had all settled down, the instructor began to speak. "The name of the game is 'Capture the Flag'."

There were some nods and grunts of approval. If they were any normal humans, they would cheer and whoop. Of course, if they were normal, they wouldn't have gone for a 2 hour run in the first place, either.

Jeff leaned on a mossy log, catching his breath and surveying his surroundings, as the instructor yammered away. They were in a muddy forest, which was fairly dark with sunrays beaming down.

"You're gonna get a rifle, and two hundred stun-rounds! Divide yourselves up into two teams, and get to fighting!"

The forest provided excellent cover. Its dense foliage could easily cover up one of those military Scorpion tanks. It should be easy taking the other team out.

Except, Jeff was folded into Red team, while the Spartans who'd distinguished themselves, more or less as team leaders, which were John, Linda, Kelly, Fred, Will… were all on the Blue team.

Jeff clutched the rifle to his heart, and inhaled. Brooke stepped under a low branch, her rifle at the ready, and tapped his shoulder, then motioned to the right. He slid a magazine into his rifle, and pulled back the bolt. They were using semi-automatic carbines—the training weaponry used by new marine recruits.

The plan was to leave Dan's squad hidden to keep watch over the Red team's flag. Karl's squad would make a fast run through the centre of the forest and take the large hill overlooking the forest. It was right about 30 feet tall. And the rest of the Spartans would follow Jeff in an offensive around the right side.

The four Spartans met in the clearing. Dan and Karl both wore military fatigues, and the standard marine bucket hats. The two had their rifles slung over their shoulders, and were sitting on a log, listening for the instructor's whistle.

Karl's face had a stern look to it—almost like a school master. His cold, glassy blue eyes matched with his hair—tufts of messily combed dirty blond stuck out, matted to his forehead. He stretched out his legs, as he was about to do some serious running.

Dan was nearly a head shorter than Karl, and his hair was a light hazel colour. In contrast to Karl, his face looked much warmer. Warmer, but still not the nicest bloke you'll ever meet. A closer look revealed the eyes of a man on the edge. A streak of yellow could be seen in his eyes, like two chipped marbles. His eyes shifted around nervously, as he toyed with his rifle.

"No doubt those guys have already heard our plan," Jeff muttered. "Well, come on. We'll never win this thing by sitting around."

Karl waved his hand in a circular motion, and six Spartans trotted out of the bush. He nodded to Jeff, then began to run to the hill. Dan jumped back behind a clump of bush, and gave Jeff a thumbs up.

Brooke and the Spartans under his command started off, picking a route around the hill.

Hell, it was probably the worst plan ever used. But it was only training, right? The most horrible thing that could happen was getting a nasty zap and a moment of disorientation after a hit from a stun-round.

They'd been running for over ten minutes. From Jeff's calculations, they must have at least covered a few klicks at least. He was nearly dead on his feet. They were just rounding the hill, which must've taken Karl and his crew around the less time to get to, as they cut straight through the forest. Damn, it was one gigantic piece of green.

"Stop here," Jeff ordered, holding up a hand. "If we're going the wrong way, the other team could be already at our main base. We'll establish a rally point here, and send out a few assault teams at a time, just in case." His head snapped up, and he glanced around. "Hold here. I heard something…" With that, he brought his rifle to bear, and silently moved off into the bush.

Jeff crouched behind a large tree trunk. He leaned to the left, and peeked out. He saw a lone Spartan walking down a beaten path. Perfect. A small grin tugged at his mouth, and he raised his carbine.

Just has he squeezed the trigger, he heard a loud click! The Spartan below stopped dead in his tracks, but didn't look towards Jeff's position. Maybe he thought it was an animal.

"Damn, damn…" Jeff ripped the magazine from the weapon, and tapped it against the palm of his hand as silently as he could muster. He slid it back into the rifle, and pulled the bolt back. This time it sounded right.

Jeff stared down the iron sights of his carbine to take aim at the Spartan. But he was nowhere to be seen. Jeff had only taken his eyes off of him for a second! And if he did see Jeff, the Spartan would have already returned fire… Something was definitely up.

Suddenly, the foliage behind Jeff rustled. Before he could turn around and identify what it was, something shot out, collided with Jeff and pinned him to the ground. He didn't even have time to raise his rifle, as it already had its hands around Jeff's neck.

_-! Somebody's always choking him like a bitch. I have just realised this. Then again, it was a major feature in the rewrite. Wink._

* * *

**Chapter 15**

His lungs burned, and he gasped for air—but the restricting hands clamped around his neck like a vise grip were unforgiving.

If I believed in God, that's who I'd be praying to—like, right now, Jeff thought with much amusement. He banished the thought, and continued to struggle with his attacker. The lack of oxygen was exhausting him, and he felt his limbs turn to jelly. He tried to pry the hands of steel off of his neck, but it was no use. His vision was starting to darken.

_-! Since 14 of the rewrite ended on this image of a powerful being slowly strangling him, only instead with Brooke, I wanted to come back to this in 15. _

Even if there was no God in his little world, there was always the next best thing—a miracle. And that's maybe just what happened. Out of the corner of his eye, a figure moved behind his aggressor. Jeff's attacker whirled around, his fingers still on Jeff's almost-crushed windpipe. But Ii was too late—there was the pulpy sound of a blow landing, and air flowed into Jeff's chest. He inhaled deeply, rapidly exhaling, looking forward to the next gulp of precious fresh air. He glanced upwards—and his miracle was none other than Brooke.

There was a groan, and Jeff remembered that his attacker was still beside him, just waking from an intense strike. He jumped upright, and delivered a nasty kick in the target's side, flipping him over.

"John!" he exclaimed with a slight snarl. Jeff nodded thanks to Brooke, who had already removed a side-arm from its holster. "Knock him out once again, so we can drag his ass back to camp."

Brooke nodded, taking in his suggestion—the obvious suggestion. She ejected the magazine. Jeff got a quick look at it, as she reached into her bandoleer for another. An incredulous look crossed his face.

"Are those—are those live rounds?"

"I—" Brooke shot him a look, and leveled the handgun at the back of 117's head.

_-! Right from the get-go. She was non-conformist. But she's changed. Sort of._

There was a rustle in the brush, and Jeff turned to her and whispered, "Don't look now, but it seems that the armada has arrived."

She hastily shoved the full magazine down the front of her shirt, and zipped up her parka.

Karl trained his rifle. "What the hell are you doing, girl?" he questioned Brooke with a menacing tone. She still had her gun aimed squarely at the head of an almost unconscious John.

Brooke quickly dropped the pistol and raised her hands in the air. Karl still didn't relax his pose. He came down on Jeff.

"And you?"

"If you must know, I almost died, Karl. Literally, at the hands of one of your own."

"I don't understand." The rest of the Spartans had arrived on the scene, forming a circle.

"John!" Brooke muttered angrily. "It was him. He attacked Jeff. I arrived just in time and clubbed the bastard."

"It's hard to believe."

"Well, believe it!" Jeff violently lashed out at the prone Spartan. He received two other Spartans who grabbed him from behind, and restrained his body.

"Still aren't sold? Look at that," Brooke motioned to Jeff's reddened neck.

Karl studied him, but was still indecisive. "Get John back to camp. You two," he looked directly at Jeff and Brooke, "we're going to have a talk with the doctor back in camp. And the rest of you, training's over. Someone alert the rest of the blues. Let's haul ass."

As the Spartans made their way back through the forest, Brooke and Jeff fell to the rear.

"You really should get that looked at." Brooke reached out to examine his wound.

Jeff shied away from her hand. "Go to the medical facility—and get another mysterious injection? No thanks. I'll take my chances out here again." He tenderly felt his neck. A normal person's windpipe would've been crushed to a pulp. Maybe being a Spartan did have advantages. It seemed he was going to find that out soon enough.

**0616 Hours, August 30, 2552 Reach Military Complex**

_**-**__! Jeff had to wear the armour, and Jeff had to fight aliens. That was the transformation into a Spartan he was resisting. I didn't really want to see him in the suit, as he was more of a plainclothes kind of guy. But when I finally got back to writing chapter 15 from a long hiatus, I knew how it needed to end, even if the rewrite didn't quite agree with it and chapter 16._

"It itches."

"It does not. Now, hold steady—and breathe normally."

"If you want me any more motionless, I'd have to be dead."

"You know, I'll settle for sedated."

"I'll be fine," Jeff hastily replied.

Wells nodded amiably. "I thought so. Please continue," she addressed the technicians.

Jeff had been woken up in the early hours of the morning so he could be fitted in the newly developed MJOLNIR armour—the type with new shielding technology. The doctor didn't think Jeff would have any difficulties mastering the thing, so she didn't even bother with training him in the first type of MJOLNIR. But Jeff was less cooperative than she would like.

"Hurry now. We've got to get through the technical tests, and then we must move on through the obstacle course."

"Well, I'm hurrying as fast as I can," Jeff stated dryly. "Where are the other Spartans?"

Wells circled around Jeff's bulky form, clipboard in hand. "Off on one of Halsey's missions," she answered. The doctor received a thumbs-up signal from one technician. "Perfect. Everything should work fine. How do you feel?"

Jeff kept his usually witty quip to himself this time. "It's—a suit of armour. Am I supposed to feel something? If you're asking what I think of it… it's too green."

"Move around for a bit." Wells ignored his comment.

He strolled around the room with an ease, albeit awkwardly. "Everything checks out. Now, about this shielding stuff?"

"I was just getting to that." Wells motioned to the helmet on a nearby tray. She noticed Jeff frown. "It'll offer you protection. Nobody cares what you look like, any way."

Jeff glanced at a nearby technician. "Real nice lady, huh?"

On a holographic projector, an AI's image wavered and formed. "Doctor, may I have a word?"

"Can this wait?"

"I'm afraid not. This is quite an urgent issue."

Wells sighed and motioned for Jeff to wait. As she spoke to the AI, Jeff noticed her face. Her expression started as an irritated one. As she received news, it turned to genuine concern—then fear. Something was definitely up. She quickly strode to where Jeff stood.

"It's too late," she whispered. "They've found us."

"The Covenant?" Jeff asked. He should be afraid, but—maybe the words hadn't registered yet.

"Correct. Landing craft launched approximately fifteen minutes ago. That means—" her face paled a shade Jeff thought was impossible. "They should be arriving now."

As if on cue, gunfire and explosion were heard from outside the testing facility building. Chatter in alien tongue, as well as the screams and orders of human speech greeted Jeff's ears.

A massive figure blocked the sunlight streaming in from the crack of the facility gate. At first, Jeff misinterpreted it for another Spartan. But something was too odd. Its armour looked much curvier, and the figure seemed strangely hunched over. Then it suddenly hit his brain…

So not a Spartan. He quickly disappeared behind a row of stacked crates. The alien hadn't seen him yet, he was sure of it. Wells however, was standing still, too shocked to move.

The alien moved towards her, its rifle lowered, enjoying seeing her recoil with fear. He was going to end her… slowly. She was surely harmless.

Suddenly, Wells regained her composure and materialized a pistol from her lab coat. After quickly thumbing the safety, holding it uneasily, she fired two rounds into the creature. The projectiles harmlessly bounced off of the alien's protective coating. It clicked his mandibles and began to reach for her; he was going to wring her neck. Before he could touch her, an iron rod fell across his outstretched arms.

"Hands off, boy," a chilling voice from behind him growled. As the alien turned to look, eager for another human to kill, he received a whip across the face from the tip of the rod. Through the shielding, he felt the impact on his face. He snarled with embarrassment and anger. For his effort, he was beaten by the iron once again in the back of his head. Before the Spartan could strike again, he lunged forward.

Jeff and the creature fought for control of the rod, tugging and lashing out violently with their free hands. The Spartan gave the 'elite' a shove with his steel boot, propelling the alien back and bashed the blunt weapon over its head, bending the rod. The alien shield began to shimmer, and it roared in pain. Jeff discarded the busted iron, and ran at the stunned alien. He delivered a devastating drop-kick, knocking the alien down. The elite scrambled over to pick up his fallen rifle. Jeff kicked the alien in its side, and it halted its movement. Then, quick as lighting, the alien's fingers snatched up its side-arm and leveled it at Jeff. The Spartan, however, had matched his movement, and was even quicker. Before the alien could line up a shot, Jeff's rifle had already coughed out three rounds, which tore a hole through its elongated helmet. Purple blood pooled by its head as it slumped to the ground.

Jeff cautiously made his way over to the alien pistol. He picked it up, and shot the alien in the chest once again—just to make sure it was dead.

The doors slid apart, and another figure rushed through the blinding light. Fortunately, this time it was a Spartan.

"Jeff, Doctor," it said, (Jeff recognized Brooke's voice), "are you all right?"

"Never been better—" Jeff tried to sound cheery. He laughed—"Who the hell am I kidding? Of course I've been better. I wouldn't even have been mixed up in this mess. As for Wells—she's a little traumatized, looks like."

Brooke only nodded in silent agreement. "How did you kill it?" She pointed at the corpse.

"I've seen the combat vids. I think I know just enough."

"Impressive." The silent Wells suddenly spoke up.

"So you've got your suit?" Brooke tossed him his helmet. "Chin the control, and the shield should work fine."

Jeff noticed the rifle she clutched, and remembered what their situation was. It definitely wasn't good.

"What are we going to do—about the Covenant?"

"We fight them, as always."

"No." Wells began to act like her own self. "Fighting them isn't my number one priority. Maybe for Halsey's toys—but you two," she nodded at Jeff and Brooke, "were chosen for different purposes. We have to get off of Reach."

"What about saving the largest fortification of the human worlds?"

"Reach nothing!" she snapped. "Reach was doomed ever since the Covenant arrived. The other Spartans are undoubtedly turning back now. They're bred for combat. You two are coming with me."

Jeff nodded slowly, taking it all in. "And how do we get off this place, with the space being a combat zone in all directions?"

Wells waved her hand dismissively, and replied curtly, "I've got people working on it."

Brooke was silent, but she made no objection to the doctor's plan. When both Spartans looked at Wells for details, she simply told them, "Follow me. We're going to need guns—lot's of 'em."

The Spartans were led briskly by the doctor through the seemingly endless gun and equipment racks located within the facility.

"Take what you need, and anything that you think is useful. We might need to make a grand exit—but hopefully, we can slip away unnoticed."

Jeff had his original custom-made rifle from his earlier years slung over one shoulder. He browsed through the confusing array of weaponry. There was the standard military issue equipment, non-military adopted firearms, prototype weaponry, and even rare explosives.

"You may be interested in these newer models—just shipped in from Earth." Wells pointed at a gun rack of a newer pistol Jeff hadn't seen the marines use before, a sub-machine which was no-doubt recently adopted—he'd seen the design on the streets before, and a rifle which featured a scope. It looked much more light-weight than the heavy-duty assault rifles the marines were using.

Jeff selected two M6C Magnums from the rack, and six spare magazines. He dropped two M7 SMG's into an equipment pack and loaded up with plenty of ammo. He'd considered slinging the BR55 across his chest, but settled for some heavier explosives—he carefully placed two Lotus mines into his pack and looped C12 explosive around his waist. As much as he was comfortable with the ordinary street firearms, he'd need equipment which was much more tough and reliable.

Although Jeff decided to go in mostly light, Brooke became a 'bullet hose', armed with larger rifles and a powerful M90. Her assault rifle was slung on her shoulder, as well as the BR55. She tucked a magnum into a hip holster, and reached for the grenade container. Brooke clipped four to her belt, and tossed two over to Jeff.

The two Spartans emerged from the warehouse, while the doctor had found her way back into her office to pick up a field-surgeon kit. The Spartans looked like two greedy children on a twisted Christmas morning. They were ready for just about anything.

_-! A lot of set up. Not enough pay off. They had a lot of firepower, but I didn't make use of it the way I wanted to. I rectified this in the rewrite by having them only carry a couple of weapons. Also, I wanted Jeff to dual wield at least once in the story. This was changed when Brooke did it in the club in the rewrite. The dual pistols became her thing, while Jeff stuck to traditional firearm usage._

"Come with me to the vehicle bay. We're going to need to get to the extraction point on the double. But first," Wells paused, and then hit the switch to the warehouse doors. "My AI will take care of the rest—this place is going to be locked up tight."

The three proceeded down the hallway and a quick pace. Brooke held her shotgun at the ready, and Jeff with his SMG's.

"Contact, around this next bend—they're in the foyer. These guys must've come in here looking for a fight." Brooke announced in a low whisper. Jeff held up both guns.

"Wells, stay here for a second. It seems you know the only way out. We can't let you die."

"Okay, on my mark, we get in there and frag them."

"Sounds like a plan." Jeff nodded sagely.

"Mark!"

_-! Most of the action here was kept the same, accounting for changes of weaponry._

In unison, both Spartans entered the room and took in the situation a split-second before they opened fire. There were three elites, a crimson and two blue armoured ones; and roughly a squad of seven grunts, topped off with two jackals.

Brooke brought her shotgun to her chest, aimed at the nearest blue elite a foot away from her, and quickly squeezed the trigger. The eight-gauge shell tore through the elite's shielding and flesh. The corpse flew backwards, and hit the wall, leaving a splatter of fresh alien blood—one down. She pumped the broomstick, and turned to the rest.

Jeff had run into the room, guns blazing, expending hundreds of rounds into the surprised aliens. Five grunts flopped to the ground, one's methane tank rupture hissing gas. He'd even managed to take down a Jackal who had had its back turned to him. The remaining grunts were taken out by a single shot from Brooke. The remaining bullets in Jeff's SMG's were spent on the Jackal's energy shield. As both guns went dry, the shield overheated and gave out. The unprotected alien was ripped to pieces by another M90 shell. Now, they had to concentrate on the elites.

Jeff quickly fed two more magazines into his guns. Both the aliens and Spartans circled each other, guns at the ready. The Elites hadn't fired, waiting for the humans to either get killed by the lower ranking Covenant, or they showed weakness.

Brooke and Jeff, as if a signal was sent to both their brains, dove to their sides as the Elites opened fire, slashing the air with plasma. Bullets deflected off of the alien's shields, and others pockmarked the walnut paneling.

The blue elite took this moment to charge at the two, while the more experienced crimson elite stayed back. Brooke saw this, and tossed her own shotgun to Jeff. He sidestepped the overzealous elite, caught the shotgun in one hand, and turned it on the alien. Another elite was out of the fight. Jeff stepped forward at the remaining elite, firing off and pumping his gun. The elite took each round in the chest, and was driven backwards. As Jeff squeezed the trigger to deliver the finishing round, the Shotgun clicked—empty. Thinking impulsively, he swung the butt of the gun at the alien's head. It rang with a metallic clank! As the elite tried to rise, a shot rang out from the other side of the room, and it fell over backwards, dead.

Brooke examined her BR55 with admiration, and set the rate of fire to burst. Jeff discarded the empty shotgun and began to move towards the exit. Wells caught up with the Spartans, and the three began to jog towards the garage.

Jeff felt energized. He hadn't felt this good since the beginning of all this—the blood on his hands felt oddly comforting. Maybe he was meant to be a part of this war…

Stop! He told himself. It's only the brainwash talking—some of that neurological garbage. Whatever happens, I am not content.

Sounds of battle could still be heard coming from down in the valley—the Covenant were trying to take out the generators, Wells had explained. She'd also reminded him that helping those marines weren't important. He felt a momentary pang of bitterness, as he thought about Jen. She could be anywhere, right now. But something gave him the impression that she was here, now, fighting for her life.

As he neared the entrance to the vehicle bay, he pulled out both Magnums. They felt much natural to hold, in comparison to the standard M6D pistols. Being comfortable was nothing, as opposed to effectiveness. If they couldn't shoot worth… Jeff always had his rifle as back up.

On the count of three, both Spartans kicked in the side door and entered the garage. A smaller group of Covenant milled about—nothing of a serious threat here. Jeff sprang forward, quickly squeezing both triggers as rapidly as his fingers allowed. The elite took every round in its face, and it fell to the concrete ground as its shielding gave away, and a powerful magnum round punctured a hole through its helmet.

Brooke fired off two bursts—six rounds spent, and four grunts fell. They waited cautiously, for any more movement. Jeff ejected both empty magazines, and fed in fresh ones. After holstering the magnums, his eyes rested on a working Warthog. He hadn't had too much practice with heavy-duty military vehicles, but he was up to the challenge. He flexed his fingers.

"All aboard," he motioned to the vehicle.

Brooke rested her hand on his shoulder, and asked, "Are you sure you want to drive?"

"Sure. I've been getting quite good—you know, illegal street drags, and the like. If this beast handles anything like my beauty back home, this should be a cinch."

Brooke and the doctor exchanged worries glances—or at least, what Wells interpreted from the MJOLNIR armour.

She climbed into the back of the 'hog, and reached forward to grab hold of the large LAAG chain gun. Jeff had already started the engine.

"Just keep it steady, okay?"

Jeff held a pistol up in his right hand, while gripping the steering wheel in his left. "Gotcha. If you had seat belts, I'd tell you to strap in." He revved the engine, and stomped on the accelerator.

_-! I kept the warthog in so I could roll right into chapter 16 (ha-ha, get it?) and not change anything there. All I had to do with 16 is finish it. _

* * *

**Chapter 16**

**Tying It Up, Tying It Together**

_Since what is posted _is_ the actual original 16, I'll just commentate over parts of it. I'll be going more in-depth on this one._

_16 was never finished before I left Spartan 000. I had only gotten as far as when Jeff reaches the bunkers, not even when he finds Jen. I wrote that shortly after finishing the original chapter 15, but so much time had gone by, I had to go back and make sure the first few chapters were readable. They weren't. I spent less than a year reworking the first chapters, then between 10, 11, and even 12, probably two years. I know for a fact at least one between 12 and 13. 12 was finished a long time ago, but I couldn't fill in the ending for some reason. Finishing 13, the next few nights I spent hitting up 14, 15, and finally finishing 16._

_I shot myself in the foot going back and replacing content. I couldn't get rid of one whole chapter, and I had run out of ideas between 12-14. Jeff needed to finish where he left off. The opening scene in the new chapter 15 finished off 14 nicely, even though that wasn't in my plan. _

_When people read Spartan 000 however many years ago, they had a much different experience than the one I came up with recently. Sixteen remains the same, with only minute difference with regards to character interaction, but gives the character much needed closure so that it might have even fit with the original story. It was like the final goodbye that needed to be said, finishing off a story that should have been completed in 2006. _

The lone elite and his squad of bungling grunts trudged through the training grounds, searching for survivors to kill. It raised its rifle, and glanced around warily. The smaller aliens impatiently fidgeted with their methane tanks and looked expectantly at the leader.

As he heard the whine of a human vehicle, he snapped his head to the left, in the general direction of the noise. But it was too late—the metallic green of the warthog was the last thing it ever saw. The driving force plowed into the elite's chest, throwing the lifeless corpse back a few metres.

The tires squealed as Jeff drifted to a halt. A burst from Brooke's chain gun finished the last of them. Jeff put the vehicle at a steady pace, and performed a sharp right—then a left. The vehicle cut through a section of various buildings. The entire complex was quite large, almost like a small town.

Wells' knuckles were white, fastened to the side of her seat. She ordered shakily, "Okay, right, go… right. Now left. Left!" Jeff was a smooth driver, but even in the heavily armoured vehicle, she felt her bones rattle as she was thrown back and forth.

_-! In the original, Jeff and Brooke and even Wells had a playful relationship. I might have accidentally left some of that in the rewritten 16, but the opening of the rewritten 15 might have changed that tone some. Jeff was a little goofier back then, too._

Once in a while, he'd take both hands off the wheel, reaching for his magnum sidearm, like he was a stunt driver, causing the doctor to snap at him. Even Brooke bent her knees slightly, as if to hide behind the massive gun, like it would protect her. This annoyed Jeff just a little, but he drove on.

Before they came to the edge of the entire military grounds, they'd cleared an entire path and left a trail of smoking, bullet-ridden bodies. It still wasn't enough. Covenant troops were still pouring into the area. They'd maybe managed to clear two eighths of the entire force. This wasn't including the entire army which had landed on Reach. Wells squinted and spotted the gatehouse up ahead.

"Jeff, stop there. We have to find a way to hack into the system to open—"

"No time." The Spartan's answer was brief. And at the same time, it told the doctor exactly what was happening.

Her eyes widened, and she shrunk lower into her seat, trying to brace for impact. Brooke stared at the back of Jeff's head.

_-! Everything up until now was largely unchanged. Original 2006 or 2007 writing. The following vehicle sequence had little details and dialogue changed up, but was part of the original document as well._

"Jeff, we should talk about this. I know we have a lot of unresolved issues…"

"Another time. Maybe if we survive this," Jeff said, his brow knitted.

The speedometer was rising fast. 90 km, 100, 110… Jeff gritted his teeth and floored the 'hog. Today was the day he found out how much damage this beast could take. He didn't bother swerving to avoid a plasma bolt, which smashed into their tail light, shattering the bulb; he needed all the momentum he could conjure up. Another bolt slashed through the air, a centimeter away from Brooke's face, but she didn't dare turn around to return fire. She got low and pressed her thigh under the LAAG's mount, securing herself in the bed.

The gate was getting bigger by the second. It was comprised of basic chain-link—however, reinforced with a sheet of Titanium-A "battle plate" armour. If the damned jeep would stop fish-tailing for a second, Jeff would aim straight for the iron rods which made up the frame. That would hopefully bust it open. If not, their ride would be totaled, they would all hurt pretty bad and if Wells couldn't break the gates electronically, they'd be trapped. Then again, Wells might actually be dead, were that the case.

Jeff forced himself to laugh. This might have been the stupidest thing he ever attempted, or if all of them lived, it would have been the smartest. He bent eagerly over the steering wheel. This was it.

There was a smash of impact, then the shriek of distressed metal, then all at the same time, the _clang_ of plating snapping off and flying outwards. Jeff's head snapped back, ramming his skull into the back of his seat. There was no headrest, so it wasn't quite a comfy ride out. But the speed he had picked up had done the trick. The warthog shot through the now twisted pieces of gate. The thick, solid warthog was now scratched and dented in a dozen places. Headlights, hubcaps, and even a bumper had fallen off. The engine began to belch out black smoke, overworked and most likely rattled out of position, but he paid no attention. He allowed himself a smile, and looked over his shoulder. It should be smooth sailing from here on.

Jeff gunned the warthog down the trail. He sensed both of the passengers loosen up. But they weren't exactly out of the woods just yet. The extraction point was just outside the kill zone—ten miles swarming with the entire fucking Covenant armada.

Wells had mapped out a route which took a compromise of safety and speed. Jeff glanced at the Nav marker his HUD now showed and put the warthog at a steady pace. Reach was being overrun almost everywhere, but Wells took a path straight through the woods away from the major hotspots.

"We'll take the road which goes along the river and passes near the generators," Wells told Jeff over the roar of the engine and the leaves and branches slapping the windshield with noisy cracks.

_-! In an effort to match 000 with the Halo canon, I needed Jeff in the fight somewhere. Also I knew he needed to meet up with Jen one more time. The generators seemed a likely enough place for them to find each other._

Jeff's eyebrow shot up, and he took his eyes off the road to shoot a look at the doctor. "The generator? The same one which powers the MAC guns in orbit?"

"The same one the Covenant are gunning for?" Brooke had gotten off the LAAG for fear of low-flying branches and was crouched behind the drivers' and passengers' seats.

"The same place that's most likely the hottest combat zone on the entire planet? Excuse me for saying, Doc, but that kind of takes the whole sneaky getaway thing to a bit of a miss, doesn't it?" Jeff steered through the winding path, stomping on the accelerator to move through the thick mud. They were almost at the edge of the woods.

"Possibly," Wells turned to the two Spartans and said, "but with any luck, the Covenant haven't reached it yet. We're quite deep in friendly territory. If that's a risk I'm willing to take, I'll put my life, as well as yours, down on it."

And with that, the road in front of them promptly exploded in a flash of fiery plasma, causing Jeff to swerve and run completely off the path. He swore as he struggled to control the beast as it tore downhill, smashing through bushes and small trees. As he did his best to avoid the larger obstacles and slow down, the warthog spun almost ninety degrees, putting the left-rear end of the vehicle into the thick trunk of a tree. It tore off a large chunk of the oak and put a deep dent into the warthog's armoured side. It was where Brooke sat just a second ago and she glared at the back of Jeff's armoured head, her mouth hanging open. But the vehicle continued its rapid descent down the mountainside, taking all the vegetation with it.

Suddenly, the warthog struck a low boulder and soared through the air, then landed with a jarring _crunch!_ Jeff was finally able to drift to a sudden stop, throwing his passengers forward. For a moment, the three were still, breathing heavily and silent.

Jeff began to laugh in relief, causing a slight smile out of Wells. But Brooke glanced out into the sky and swore. Jeff looked up and his eyes widened. He quickly slid out of the drivers' seat, followed by Brooke who held on to Wells' arm, pulling her forward. Jeff got under Wells' other arm, and the Spartans ran as fast as they could with the doctor dangling in between. A moment later, the warthog exploded into pieces of flaming metal as a plasma mortar dropped from the sky and scored a perfect hit. What was once their ride was now half-melted metal and in about a hundred pieces, too.

Wells' face fell in disbelief, as did Jeff and Brooke. The planet was being swarmed, and there was no way they could make it to the extraction point on time. But they didn't have too much time to think, as the sounds of battle drifted closer, and they took off towards friendly lines.

Once they reached the clearing, they saw a number of newly constructed bunkers surround a set of buildings which were obviously the generators. The Covenant knew it too, and were already attacking in full force, wave by wave. The battle was only starting, and dead Covenant littered the grounds. The marines inside the bunkers seemed to be all right, gunning down any alien who came into view. Another large wave was already advancing on the defensive position. The three would be found sooner or later, so the only safe place would be the bunkers.

Brooke lifted her rifle and checked it over. Jeff had his assault rifle, and leaned forward, ready to sprint.

"Run straight for the bunker and keep Wells in between us. Pick off a few if you can," Brooke told Jeff, "You take point. When I say…"

She primed a grenade and lobbed it into the middle of the Covenant forces. The ones who were too late to dive out of the way were blown to bits. Brooke patted Jeff on the shoulder then calmly began to pick off the rising aliens and follow the other Spartan. Jeff sprayed the area with his MA5, while side-stepping to allow Wells greater cover. When the dust cleared leaving an elite and four very confused jackals, the marines' powerful machine guns made short work of the aliens.

Brooke remained outside to cover the exits while Jeff and the doctor entered the nearest bunker. Inside, the marines paused momentarily to take in the sight of MJOLNIR armour. Jeff ignored this and told Wells to start planning an alternate route out, then turned to find a ranking officer.

Outside there was about a company's worth of men, taking cover behind a row of sandbags or sitting in forward fox holes all over the field. Beside a brace-mounted machine gun was a marine who peered intently through a pair of field glasses. His face was deepened to a scowl while the cigarette in his mouth glowed. His FOF tag read BUCKMAN, LT. Just the man Jeff needed. When he got down on one knee to speak to the lieutenant, the officer removed his cigarette from his mouth, but continued to stare through the glasses. Yet, he knew Jeff was there.

_-! I planned for Jen to get wounded during this chapter, but only half way through writing did I realise this was the perfect opportunity to throw in Buckman, the man who lazed himself and his crew._

"Covie bastards… Just throwing scraps our way. I can see those sons of bitches on the other side of the hill. They got ghosts, hunters and everything." Buckman finally lowered the glasses and glanced at Jeff and asked, "You here to help us or you come to watch the show?"

Jeff shook his head and straightened his body. "No… sir," he added instinctively. He said, "I've come to ask you how the situation was."

Buckman spat and looked over to the battlefield again. "Those guys aren't even trying. They're seeing how long we can last out. But every second we hold, we blow a dozen of their ships outta the sky. I think they're waiting on reinforcements or something. I don't know about the rest of the planet, but what matters is the generator."

Jeff pursed his lips. This was going to be a tricky escape… but of course, he couldn't let the lieutenant know. He nodded slowly and told him, "Maybe we can flank them before they get a chance to mobilize—catch them on the unawares. Get 'em up close."

Buckman thought this over. "I wouldn't have attempted it because we didn't have the manpower to do it before. But with two Spartans? Maybe this can work after all."

"We're not…exactly… uh… yeah, we can kick some ass," Jeff said awkwardly.

"…All right. Then let's do it. You're coming up with me. Give me a second to assemble the assault team. Forty marines, no more, no less." With that, Buckman got to his feet and rallied up any willing volunteers while Jeff made his way back to Wells.

"I'm trying to raise them on the COMM," she explained. "It's not easy. I suggest working with the marines for the time being while I get this sorted out."

"Then I'll go with Buckman. Brooke will stay here with you."

The team had fanned out and moved through the forest. Buckman stood and pointed forward. "The Covenant aren't hitting us too hard, and I assume they're sleeping all the way down there. So, it's up to us to wake them. I was thinking of a 'good-morning' air strike, but you all could probably think of a better plan. Let's move it up!"

Buckman looked at Jeff. "Just one Spartan?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Jeff shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave. "I'm twice the man she is."

The Spartan stepped over a thick tree root, quietly tapping his rifle against the palm of his hand to the beat in his head. He wanted this to be over and done so he could get off Reach before the Covenant glassed the whole damn place.

"Lieutenant Buckman!" a female marine called out and jogged forward. Buckman put the soldiers at a halt and strode forward to talk to the marine. Jeff also made his way over, but paused as he saw who it was.

"I just got word from Torres back at the generator. The Covies are starting to move up now, and they don't have the manpower to hold out."

"That means our surprise raid won't have any effect."

"Not if they're not there," she agreed.

"Right. That means we should strike here and now."

Jeff decided to interrupt. "That sounds like a good plan. I recommend coordinating with the men back at the generator to strike the Covenant assault force." Seeing Buckman turn back to the marine, Jeff quickly called out, "Private, get on the radio to Torres and HighCom."

Buckman motioned for the rest of the team to stay put as he talked with Hill. Jeff watched the officer, then turned his attention to the marine behind him. "Now, I want you to… Jen!"

Jen Wilson stared at him with a blank look and cocked her head quizzically. "Yes sir?"

He didn't know why he remembered her. Fifteen years later, she was still just as striking as the day he met her. It felt like a lifetime ago. He reached for his helmet and began, "It's me, Je—"

Then he stopped. She couldn't remember him. He wasn't even sure she wanted to remember him. Their time together was much too brief.

He was a different person.

She probably didn't care.

_-! The original events took place much closer to 2552. 15 and 16 would have fit better if the events from chapters 5-11 weren't within the same month or so. But in the long run, the cryo sleep wasn't as difficult to make believable as I thought it would. The different person remark was a throwback to how different the rewrite Jeff was compared to this one. Also how I didn't really care about Jen as a character anymore._

Jeff continued looking at her, then asked, "What are you doing, Private?"

"Standing by. Where do you need me?"

"Right where you are is fine," Jeff said hastily. "So what are you doing on Reach? I mean, how'd you end up here?"

"My unit came in for a little R&R, sir. Too bad the Covies came to crash the party, huh?"

Jeff let out a chuckle. He cleared his throat and looked away. Jen smiled warmly at him. "Who said Spartans don't have a sense of humour?"

"I'm sure they're all very hilarious underneath their helmets," Jeff replied. "I hear they're evacuating military personnel. You draw the short straw?"

"Actually, no," Jen said. "Everyone here volunteered to stay behind, to keep the defense platforms running. To give the evacuees a chance when they exit atmo."

_-! This was all new dialogue I had to write in order to release the thing. Keeping the selfless hero persona, Jen Wilson was back in full form. I wanted to play that up, perhaps too much, but seeing Jen had to change Jeff in some way._

"But you're throwing your life away!" Jeff accidentally let slip. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out right."

"It's a fair point," she said with a frown. "But I've come to terms already. People die in this war. If I'm going to be added to that number, then whatever happens will happen. Just take the time I got left and make use of it."

Jeff looked away and said quietly, "You have a very definite outlook on life."

"I do okay by it, you know? You don't argue with what can be, you deal with what is."

"Yeah."

"So there's a good chance I won't see the end of this, right? Whatever. All I can do is hope it'll be quick. But even then…" She paused.

"You have to deal with what is," Jeff finished for her.

"Yeah."

They sat together in silence, watching the rest of the marines. Buckman was still figuring out how to use his headset.

"You seen a lot of this in your time? As a Spartan?" Jen asked.

Jeff thought for a moment, then told her, "It gets pretty rough when you get down to it. But hey, I've seen even worse. You're doing fine, Private."

"Good to know," she said to herself. "What goes into the program?"

"What?"

"How does one become a Spartan?"

"Genes, bad luck, and a credible reference," Jeff told her. "Why do you ask?"

"Years back on Arcturei, my squad was pinned down by a shitload of Covies. Just when I thought, this is the end, this is what's happening now… they swooped in and saved us. I'll never forget the moment they charged the fixed positions like something out of folklore, or fairytales."

"This is starting to sound like one."

"I heard about them before, but to witness them up close? It takes the respect to a whole new level. If the outfit wasn't so secretive, I think I would have wanted to join up."

For once, Jeff didn't offer his input. He simply nodded.

"I just like the idea of helping out anyone whenever they need it. And boy do we need help," Jen said. "They just do so much for us. Those are the people we need to build statues for, not tyrants, cowards with silver tongues. So on behalf of the everyone still alive," she placed a hand on top of his. "Thank you. For everything."

"You really don't need to—" before Jeff finished what he was saying, Buckman stood and called out to him.

"I think we did it! Just hold tight and watch the fireworks!"

There was a low rumbling sound. Something about it made Jeff uneasy. The Covenant position was still a ways off from them, but the sound kept growing louder.

He craned his head upward and froze. His HUD enhanced the image and he saw it through slow-moving frames.

There was a shriek of passing aircraft, and the scream of falling bombs. Buckman swore, but didn't have time to run. Right before the forest exploded, Jeff jumped forward and covered her with his bulky frame and bellowed, "JEN! GET DOWN!"

Jeff coughed uncontrollably. He hacked up blood and clenched his jaw, feeling like every tooth in his mouth was rattled loose. His eyes watered from the smoke and dust… his helmet had been blown off his shoulders when the explosions tossed him into the air and through a couple of trees.

He heard a weak groan behind him. He rolled over and crawled to Jen's heaving form. She lay on the ground, her eyes blinking wildly. He glanced down and nearly yelled out, angry at the Covenant, angry at the universe.

Jen's torso was covered in blood. Her hand feebly trembled by her side. Jeff took hold of it and peeled back the blood-soaked, ripped and torn ballistic armour. Fragments of vicious looking shrapnel were embedded into her gut, shredding all the way through her body.

"Jen," he whispered, "God dammit! Jen!"

Her eyes focused, looking at him. "Jeff?"

It killed him to hear that. "Yeah, it's me. Hang on, okay?"

"You became a Spartan?" She looked dazed.

_-! This worked for the original story, I don't remember if I ever brought this back up in the rewrite._

Jeff gritted his teeth as he answered, "I did."

She managed a smile, blood dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. "You saved me on Arcturei. I knew it." She closed her eyes.

"Jen, look at me," Jeff said, panicking. He looked around the remains of the forest. Only upturned dirt, shattered tree trunks and grotesque corpses remained. "Stay with me!"

Jen let out a whimper, and her eyes welled with tears. "It hurts. God, it hurts!"

Jeff looked horrified. His armour protected him from most of the impact, and while he shielded Jen, it was impossible to protect her completely. The others were gone in seconds… she had to go through the worst of it. He whispered, "Jen, I'm so sorry."

She squeezed his hand and said, "It's all right. It's going to be okay. It'll be over soon."

_-! I repeated this a lot, throughout the last few chapters. Maybe it was my subconscious at 4 in the morning telling me something._

Jeff closed his eyes, not letting go. "You would make an amazing Spartan. The best."

Jen breathed out. "You saved me on Arcturei, didn't you?"

A pause, then, "Yeah. I did."

"Thank you," she mumbled, growing faint. Then her hand fell limp. Jeff tightened his grip, waiting for her to squeeze back.

She never did.

He let out a hoarse cry and crushed a clump of dirt in his left fist. After a moment, he wiped the moisture dribbling down his cheeks and said gently, "Thank you."

Jeff staggered to the edge of the forest, his rifle hanging loosely in his grasp. His helmet was tucked under his arm. His face was smeared with dirt and blood, his features expressionless. Around him, the forest was grey and dying. Fires dotted the ground, shell holes were carved into the land.

In the clearing, there was a roar overhead with the beating of enormous, powerful rotors. A Falcon transport hovered above him and touched down in the meadow. He saw Brooke jump out of the door and wave him forward. Behind her, Doctor Wells sat strapped in. She was casually scrolling through her electronic pad, her legs crossed and hair done up.

_-! This probably didn't come off as well as I would have liked. But I wanted to show the hell Jeff went through, then immediately after, how undisturbed Wells was by the whole thing. Someone had just died in Jeff's arms, and they were too busy running away from the fight._

Jeff stood completely still. From inside his helmet, he heard Brooke's voice.

"Jeff, this is it. We need to go! We're leaving right now! Come on! Get out of there! It's over!"

Broadcasting on the same frequency, another voice broke in. "Is anybody out there? We're pinned down and need assistance. This is Admiral Danforth Whitcomb! I repeat, we are pinned down and need assistance. Is anyone out there?"

_-! I wanted this to mirror Jen's experience on Arcturei, giving Jeff a chance to redeem himself. Brooke says "It's over" and it very abruptly reminds him of Jen's dying words, "It's almost over." Then Whitcomb, straight from First Strike, cuts in requesting help._

For a long while, he stared at the Falcon.

Then he put his helmet over his head and turned on his heel. As he marched with confident strides, picking up speed, he hefted his assault rifle. He chinned the control and said loud and clear, "This is Spartan 000, reporting for duty."

_-! If we want to be all pretentious, the helmet I thought symbolized the thing that covers Jeff's true identity as he becomes a Spartan in the loosest sense. But even before I saw it that way, I had planned for Jeff to struggle to keep the helmet off. After I needed him to have the shield, though he never gets shot, the idea snuck away. But when he puts it on for the final time, it is like he is accepting his role. If anything, like everything about the SPARTAN II program, 000 is about transformation. He has run from it his whole life, but after seeing the war through his own eyes, Jeff finally gives in. _

_This is a huge change. Even in the original, I had planned for Jeff to carry Jen's wounded body back with him and place her in cryo (leaving open possibility for her to come back as a Spartan?) then, to be rid of Wells' control, killing himself. Fighting to the end. But I found Jen's death had more of an impact and thus paved the way for a more heroic ending. He finally refers himself as a Spartan (though he technically is just an augmented being) to respect Jen's memory, and he more or less gives himself into the service of the UNSC, taking on responsibility he never had before. _

_He walks away from Brooke and the doctor. He shies away from the path of darkness and turns back to fight. It ends on a weird note. For a story filled with gunfights and hand-to-hand combat every other chapter, the ending had very little action. I wanted Jeff to stop an entire Covenant assault, but that wouldn't fit here for some reason. It was too melancholy to start up the fighting, especially after the death of a character._

* * *

Well, that's enough out of me. Thus ends my first ever Author's Commentary. Thank you for reading through all of this crap. That's all the bonus material I have lying around, all 72 pages of it on Word.

In hindsight, maybe some of it should be forgotten, though.

Anyhoo, my billet is full with my start in original fiction these days. It's exciting to start to create your own universe, though less so in terms of filling up at 100k novel. But hopefully I have learned a thing or two from this beautiful train wreck and hopefully you'll see me on bookshelves one day.

Ta.


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